Fanatic
by yellowrose
Summary: When McGee is kidnapped by a deranged fan of his book, it's up to his NCIS team to bring him back alive.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or anything else having to do with NCIS, just a desire to write!

Note: This is my first attempt at an NCIS story. Hope you enjoy it.

CHAPTER ONE

NCIS Special agent Tim McGee wearily dragged himself through front door of his apartment and collapsed on his sofa with a deep sigh of relief. It was Friday and the week was finally over; this long, horrible, exhausting week. They had been investigating the death of a naval petty officer killed in a bar fight. It appeared to be an open and shut case. The killer, a local book dealer, claimed self-defense saying the man attacked him for no reason. However when the team looked into it further, they realized that the book dealer was really a local supplier of child pornography and the petty officer had been the enraged father of one of the abused children. It had been a disturbing case for all of them and it was made even more so when McGee bungled retrieving some of the computer evidence and almost destroyed their case. Abby was able to save the day but McGee was most definitely in the doghouse as far as the rest of them were concerned.

Now, it was the weekend and the long awaited book convention. In addition to being an NCIS agent, Timothy McGee was also Thom E. Gemcity, bestselling author of the thriller, _Deep Six_. This weekend was an opportunity for authors and their fans to get together and discuss the books, sign autographs, and promote upcoming publications. This would be Tim's first such convention and he was looking forward to it. It would also provide a welcome distraction from his job worries. How nice it would be to switch from being geeky McGee the screw-up to Thom E. Gemcity, successful writer. He sighed again and headed into the bathroom to take a shower. This weekend could only be an improvement.

*********

Monday morning came gray and dreary. It had started raining the night before and gave no indication of letting up anytime soon. Traffic was horrendous and although Gibbs was there on time, agents Tony DiNozzo and Ziva David wandered in, dripping wet, at least thirty minutes late each cursing the idiocy of D.C. drivers.

"Sorry, Boss," said DiNozzo shaking off his jacket. "I left an hour early but I swear every idiot was on the road this morning."

Gibbs just grunted and shook his head. Ziva was looking around. "McGee is not yet here?"

"Not yet," replied Gibbs with a trace of irritation although he hardly had reason to berate McGee for tardiness. Usually he was in before anyone else with the exception of Gibbs himself.

"Well, I hope McTardy shows up soon," groused Tony settling into his seat. "He's supposed to bring me coffee this morning."

Gibbs' eyebrow shot up but he said nothing. He was beginning to feel a slight twinge of concern in his gut. A moment later he was distracted by the ring of his phone. "Gibbs." He listened impassively then frowned. "Send her up."

He turned to his team. "That was security. Lyndi Crawshaw, McGee's publisher is downstairs. She says she needs to talk to us about McGee." Ziva and Tony exchanged puzzled glances and waited for Crawshaw to arrive.

A short while later the three NCIS agents and Crawshaw, a tall willowy brunette neatly attired in a rich burgundy suit were sitting around a table in the conference room. Crawshaw looked worried.

"You said you needed to talk to us about Tim McGee?" asked Gibbs straightaway studying Ms. Crawshaw intently.

She nodded unhappily. "Tim seems to have disappeared," she replied looking at Gibbs. "He was attending a book convention in D.C. this weekend. You know, meeting fans, signing autographs, that sort of thing. Well, yesterday, he was at the autograph signing session in the morning and was then supposed to attend a Q&A session in the afternoon. I found out this morning from my assistant, Todd that Tim never showed up for the afternoon session. I called the hotel and they said he hadn't checked out so I had Todd check the hotel parking garage this morning. Tim's Porsche was still there. I mean you can't miss that car and I know there is no way Tim would abandon his car!" She paused, pushing some stray strands of hair from her face. "Something's happened to him. I just know it! Since he works for you, I figured I should come to you before going to the police."

The others stared at her in stunned silence for a few moments. "Have you tried calling him?" asked Gibbs quietly.

Crawshaw nodded again as she twisted her hands together. "About a hundred times! Both his home and cell numbers. No answer. I even tried his sister. She hadn't heard from him for a couple of weeks."

"So, the last time you actually saw him was yesterday morning. Did you see him at lunch?" Gibbs leaned forward.

"No," sighed Crawshaw looking at her hands. "There was another publisher I needed to talk to so I left about eleven thirty to meet her for lunch. Tim knew I would be leaving but Todd was available if there were any problems. Tim was fine with that. He knew where to go for the Q&A and if there's one thing you can say about Tim McGee, he's dependable."

"Didn't Todd notice McGee wasn't there?" demanded DiNozzo, speaking for the first time. "I mean, isn't that his job? To make sure people get to where they're supposed to be?"

Crawshaw glanced at Tony with a slight flash of irritation. "Yes, he _did_ notice Tim wasn't there. He tried calling him but then another one of our authors had some kind of emotional meltdown when a fan confronted her about her latest book, accusing her of plagiarism or some such nonsense. Todd had to go sort that out and frankly, he just forgot about Tim not showing up until this morning. He asked me if Tim had contacted me and that's when I realized something was wrong. After we determined he'd never checked out of the hotel and that his car was still there, I came right here."

"All right, Ms Crawshaw," said Gibbs getting to his feet. "We'll take it from here."

"You will let me know if you find him, won't you?" asked Crawshaw also rising looking at Gibbs anxiously. "Tim is such a nice guy and I would hate to think anything had happened to him."

"Don't worry, if we find anything, we'll let you know," soothed Gibbs leading her out and towards the elevator while Tony and Ziva trailed behind heading to their desks.

"She's just worried she won't get another bestseller," grunted Tony watching Gibbs send the publisher on her way. Tony frowned. He hated to admit it but he was worried. This wasn't like Probie at all. McGee wasn't the type to just take off. Tony paused as a thought occurred to him. Could it have been because of all the grief they gave him last week about almost ruining their case against the pedophile? Tony shook his head. OK, yeah, Tim was really very upset about the whole thing but he was no quitter. He'd come back and do his job having learned from his mistakes. Sure, McGee was fine. Wasn't he?

Gibbs strode back towards the bullpen, his face grim. "OK, grab your gear. Let's go."


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

McGee's head was throbbing. He groaned as he painfully rolled over to his side and promptly threw up. Coughing, he slowly opened his eyes and with growing confusion, took in his surroundings. Where the hell was he!? He was lying on a mattress on the floor in some dimly lit room; that much was clear. He collapsed back onto the mattress fighting back dizziness and other bout of nausea. His headache throbbed even worse. As he moved, he heard an odd clinking sound and noticed an unexpected weight on his left foot. Slowly, he pushed himself up onto his elbow just enough to see that there was a shackle fastened around his ankle with a chain bolted to the wall. He blinked and lowered himself back onto the mattress. What was going on? It was obvious he was a prisoner and undoubtedly been hit in the head but when and by whom?

He closed his eyes and began to think back to what he could last remember. He'd been at the book convention and had been having a terrific time. He was able to forget all his worries for awhile and fully immerse himself into his alter ego, Thom E. Gemcity. He'd enjoyed talking to the fans and signing autographs as well as getting to meet other authors he'd admired for years. All in all, it had been a great experience. So, when had it gone wrong?

He remembered being at the autograph session talking to the fans, answering their questions and accepting their compliments with both pleasure and some embarrassment. He frowned. Fans…something about the fans. There had been one. A big guy. McGee rubbed his head trying to remember. What about him? Did he have a name? McGee began drawing on his investigative skills as he tried to remember. Yes, the guy's name had been Franklin…Frank …Morris. He had been the last fan in the line of autograph seekers and he and Tim had had a long conversation. Turned out, they had a lot in common including playing the same online adventure game. Frank was very familiar with Tim's Elf Lord character and Tim recognized Frank's Warrior Troll. Tim frowned. Lunch. They had decided to have lunch together and went out to Frank's car and… that's the last thing he remembered.

Tim opened his eyes and began to take stock of his situation as his brain began to clear a little. He was pretty sure he must have a concussion but otherwise he seemed okay. Carefully, he pushed himself up to a sitting position and looked around the room. It was small, maybe ten feet by ten feet with a dirt floor and cinderblock walls. It felt and smelled cold and musty, like a basement. There was a light bulb in the low ceiling providing the only meager light in the room. Other than the mattress and what looked like a bucket with a lid in the corner, the room was empty.

Tim wrinkled his nose in distaste as he noticed the acrid odor of vomit. Fortunately, there wasn't much since he hadn't eaten since…when? He remembered eating breakfast but who knew how long ago that had been. The small amount of liquid was quickly being absorbed into the damp soil. He moved away and leaned against the cold cement wall, feeling the damp penetrating through his wool blazer. He felt around in his pockets hoping that perhaps his kidnapper had missed something, but his pockets were empty. He sighed.

He now focused his attention on the shackle encasing his ankle. It was old but seemed well maintained. He examined the lock and smiled slightly. It was a simple mechanism and one McGee knew, thanks to Ziva's tutoring, he could probably spring _if _he had the right tools. He sighed again. He would just have to bide his time and wait for an opportunity. He had no idea where he was, what the kidnapper wanted or how long he'd been gone. Would Gibbs and the others come looking for him? He paused, thinking about his mistake last week. For a moment, he felt a surge of doubt but then shook himself. They _would_ come for him. He was certain of that, assuming, of course, that they could find him.

Tim had no idea how long he sat alone with nothing but his thoughts to occupy him when he heard the ominous clumping of heavy boots coming down stairs. Tim sat up straighter briefly grimacing at the ache in his head. He listened intently as he heard a bolt being thrown and the door opened revealing his kidnapper.

Franklin Morris was massive. He stood well over six feet tall and weighed close to 300 lbs but he had a friendly, open face that fooled almost everyone he'd ever met into believing he was a nice, harmless guy. Morris was anything but nice or harmless. In fact, Frank had no qualms about killing or torturing to get what he wanted. He was also very clever and had never been caught or even so much as suspected of wrongdoing. His friends and family would be appalled to learn what kind of man he really was and probably half of them wouldn't believe it. He was just too nice! In addition to his homicidal and sadistic tendencies, he was also extremely egotistical. He firmly believed the universe should revolve around him and when it didn't, he took steps to correct that. And that is why he had kidnapped Thom E. Gemcity.

Frank loved to read and usually placed himself in the role of the protagonist in whatever adventure or thriller he was reading. He always saw himself as the hero, righting wrongs and defeating evil. It never occurred to him that he more aptly fit the role of the villain. Frank had fallen in love with _Deep Six_. He had never before read a book he enjoyed so much and had read it at least a dozen times. He began to insert himself in the story and as time went on, he became more and more frustrated that he really wasn't there. He should be! When he'd learned that Thom E. Gemcity, author of _Deep Six_ was going to be at a book convention in Washington, DC, Frank was determined to go and meet him. He really hadn't decided to kidnap him until they actually met at the autograph session.

To be honest, Frank had been disappointed upon meeting his idol, even a little angry. The author of such a novel should have been more heroic, bigger than life! Instead, he turned out to be this geeky, soft-spoken nerd. Sure, he was nice and had been happy to spend a lot of time talking to Frank, but that didn't change the fact that this was NOT who Frank had imagined as writing the best book ever written. It just made him more determined to get himself into the _Deep Six_ story. To do that, he would have to convince Gemcity to write a new book, one with him, Frank Morris, as the hero!

The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. Frank knew he couldn't write but he was certain he had some terrific ideas and all he had to do was get a writer to use them. As they had talked, Frank began to formulate his plan to kidnap the author and hide him in Frank's old cabin up in the mountains. It wouldn't be the first time Frank had brought someone up there although to date, none had ever been seen again. His decision was made. After the autograph session was over and he and Gemcity seemed to hit it off so well, Frank had invited him to lunch and to his surprise, the author had willingly agreed. From there, it had been child's play. They'd gone out to his car, parked well away from security cameras and with no one around, all Frank had to do was wallop Gemcity over the head, stuff him in the trunk, and off they went. It took all of twenty seconds.

Gemcity was currently locked up in the converted root cellar under the cabin. Frank had found the space useful when working with his previous "guests". Under ground, no one could hear their screams, not that that was likely up here in the mountains. The nearest neighbor was four miles away.

Now Frank stood in the doorway of McGee's prison appraising at his latest prize. He smiled, his good-natured face lighting up with delight. But McGee was not fooled this time. With a shiver, he looked deep into his captor's eyes; the flat eyes of a killer. McGee knew he was very deep trouble indeed.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

Gibbs sat in his basement staring sightlessly at the bare wooden bones of the boat he had been working on for months, a beer, nearly forgotten, held loosely in his hand. Gibbs was stumped and he was not happy. His agent, Tim McGee had disappeared almost a week ago and they had absolutely no leads or clues as to what had happened to him. After McGee's publisher, Lyndi Crawshaw's departure Monday morning, the team had immediately headed to the hotel where they found all McGee's belongings neatly arranged in the room with no sign of any disturbance. They had checked security cameras but like many hotels, there weren't nearly enough and other than glimpsing Tim when he had first checked in, they had yet to spot him on any other footage. They had interviewed dozens of people none of whom remembered seeing McGee after the autograph session. They checked his car and found no clues. Nor were there any leads in his apartment and Crawshaw assured them there had been no threatening letters aimed at Gemcity. There had been no activity on McGee's cell phone or credit cards to follow up. There was simply nothing to go on. They had followed up every thread they could possibly come up with nothing to show for it. It was if McGee had simply fallen off the face of the earth.

Gibbs sighed deeply then took a swig of his warm beer. With a slight grimace, he dropped it on the work bench and picked up his sander. The rhythmic motion of sanding usually helped to clear his mind but all he could think about was the disappearance of him youngest agent. It bothered him to think that the last time he had spoken to McGee, it had been in anger over the young man's mistake in the pedophile case. McGee had been devastated by his error and hardly needed anyone else jumping all over him but Gibbs had been furious. Truth be told, Gibbs was in awe of McGee's talents. The computer geek seemed to pull information unobtainable by others out of the air like a magician. Gibbs had never seen anyone like him before and had known very quickly that he wanted this kid on his team. Gibbs hated to think that this last unpleasant encounter with Tim might have been the young man's final experience with the agency. Now Tim was gone and Gibbs had no idea how to find him and he was sick about it.

He thought about Tony and Ziva. They had been running themselves ragged following up any lead, no matter how obscure, that might provide some information on what had happened to McGee. Abby was an emotional wreck. They were all fully aware of the fact that the longer it took to locate him, the less likely they were to find him alive. Gibbs feared that they were already too late.

* * *

"You want me to write a story with you as the hero?" repeated Tim incredulously, watching Frank warily. His kidnapper had just explained to McGee why he was here. "And you had to kidnap me to do this? You coulda just asked!" McGee immediately regretted his snippy response as Frank backhanded him hard across the face with a ham-like hand. Tim's head exploded in agony.

"You will speak to me with respect," replied Frank softly. He waited for a few moments for Tim to regain his senses. "And yes, I expect you to write a new _Deep Six_ novel with me in it. It must be better than anything you have ever written before."

Tim wiped the blood from his nose breathing heavily against the pain. OK, he would have to handle this guy very, _very_ carefully. "I'm sorry," he replied thickly. "I didn't mean to offend you. I can certainly try and write a novel with you as the main character. Um, is there anything in particular you want in it?" McGee figured he'd better humor the guy but then a frisson of fear ran up his spine as he suddenly recalled _Misery_, the book by Stephen King where an author was held prisoner by a crazed fan who demanded he write a book resurrecting a dead character. That story hadn't ended well for most of the characters in the book and Tim had the feeling this wasn't going to end well for him either.

Frank's face was beaming with excitement. "Oh, yes!" he grinned, "I have lots of ideas and I want you to use them. I want this to be the best book ever written!" Suddenly his eyes went cold and flat. "If it isn't, you'll most certainly regret it."

Tim nodded cautiously. "Ah, OK. Um, I'll need a typewriter and some paper and a desk with a chair. If you want to write down the ideas you have, it will be easier for me to include them in the story."

Frank considered Tim's requests for several long moments as if trying to determine if there was trick hidden in there someplace but finding none, he simply nodded and left. Tim sighed in relief and slumped against the wall again. Could he possibly write what this nutcase wanted? He was scared to death he would run up against a writer's block as he'd done from time to time in the past and then what? He rubbed his forehead in concern. He hoped Gibbs and the team would find him but he was afraid they'd have nothing to go on. He would have to assume that he could only depend on himself to get out of this fix but in the meantime, he had to story outline to construct.

The days slipped by unnoticed by Tim McGee. There were no windows to provide a clue as to whether it was day or night and Frank had taken his watch so he had no idea how long he'd been there. He slept when he was tired and that was all he knew. Hour after hour he pounded away at the old Olivetti typewriter Frank had dug up from somewhere, trying to write the "best book ever written". He took Frank's ideas, no matter how bizarre and attempted to incorporate them into the plot. It wasn't easy. He paused, slumping wearily over his typewriter, another dizzy spell making the room spin around him. Frank was such an enigma. He could be quite friendly and considerate one minute but just as quickly he could turn violent. Tim absently rubbed his bruised ribs, souvenirs of Frank's latest blow-up. Tim's stomach rumbled reminding him of how long it had been since he'd last eaten. Meals had become more and more sporadic and Tim's clothes had become uncomfortably loose. He knew he'd needed to lose a few pounds but this wasn't quite the way he'd envisioned doing it. He was also terribly thirsty and aware he was dehydrated. Again, Frank brought water if he felt like it. Sometimes a day or two had gone by without any food or water and Tim was feeling the effects.

He sighed again and looked at the page he'd been working on. He was almost finished. With nothing to do but write, this story had gone much quicker than his original manuscript but he worried about Frank's response. Would it meet his expectations? If it did, what then? Would he let Tim go? Somehow McGee doubted it. Just thinking about this suddenly caused a flare of anger. Tim sat up straight, fury surging through him. Why was he just sitting here letting this lunatic abuse him? All his life he'd let people walk all over him and dammit, he'd had enough. He was a dead man no matter what he did and it was time he faced that fact. If he didn't act now, he'd soon be too weak. It might already be too late but at least he could try. He had long ago accepted the fact his team wouldn't find him and he had been foolishly willing to hold onto the hope that Frank would let him go at the end of all this but he knew he'd just been lying to himself. He'd been acting like a victim again, hoping that if he went along, everything would be OK. Well, it _wouldn't_ be and he needed to fight back. If he died trying, well at least he died trying to escape and not just waiting for the end like some sheep being led into the slaughterhouse. As these thoughts raced through his mind, he almost didn't notice the snick of the bolt being pulled back.

Abruptly Tim stood up and using one hand he starting hitting keys making it sound as if he were still typing. He watched the door swing open and as Frank stepped in McGee seized the heavy typewriter and hurled it with all his strength at Frank's head striking him heavily on the temple. Frank went down in a daze as Tim, snarling in anger, grabbed his chair and smashed it down on Frank's head. Frank went still while Tim stood panting, watching him warily. Deciding the man was out cold, Tim searched frantically through Frank's pockets until he found the key to the shackles. Releasing himself, he leaped to his feet and staggered from the room bolting the door behind him. Panting, he stumbled up the stairs to the main cabin above.

He glanced around wildly and spotting the kitchen area he hurried over and flung open the icebox door. There was a jug of water on the shelf which he immediately seized and began gulping down with the desperation of a man long overdue. With a sigh of relief he slumped against the sink and considered his next step. He had to get out of here. He glanced around and noted there was no telephone. Well, he really hadn't expected there to be one. That would be too easy. He began searching the kitchen hoping for some food and gasped as he noticed on the shelf next to some cups were his wallet and cell phone! Grabbing the small phone, he stood up, took a step away from the sink but instantly froze when he heard a soft thump. His heart racing, Tim listened hard, trying to place the noise. Was there someone else here? Silently, he began moving quickly towards the front door as he absently stuffed the phone in his pocket. Right now, all he wanted to do was get out of here and into the open.

He was just reaching for the knob when the heavy door burst open and the massive form of Frank filled the doorway blocking the light. Eyes wide in horror, Tim whirled and fled back towards the kitchen where he remembered seeing another doorway partially hidden by a pile of crates. He could hear Frank's roar and his uneven steps lumbering across the room. Panting in desperation, Tim flung the crates behind him, hoping to delay his pursuer. Finally reaching the door, he yanked it open and tripped down the three or four steps to the ground. Adrenalin kicking in, Tim scrambled to his feet and sprinted desperately towards the woods. How far he might have gotten, he would never know. The crack of a rifle and the explosion of pain in his leg put an end to his flight for freedom. He collapsed with a cry of pain, tumbling down into a shallow ravine. Tim figured his life was over but at least he'd tried. Gasping for breath, and shaking violently as the pain from his leg threatened to overwhelm him, he waited for the end.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N Thanks everyone for the reviews and kind words of encouragement! Just to let you know this story is actually complete but I'm editing as I go along. I know a lot of stories get started and never finished and I just want to assure you this isn't one of them! Thanks again!

**CHAPTER FOUR**

The end didn't come; instead the nightmare just got worse. Frank appeared over the top of the ravine looming over McGee like an armed grizzly bear. Rifle held at the ready, blood trickled down the side of Frank's face from where McGee had struck him, but much to McGee's surprise, Frank didn't look so much angry as he did self-satisfied. It was as if he'd been waiting for McGee to make a move and felt gratified to discover that he'd been right. Without a word, he slid down into the ravine, grabbed McGee, yanked him to him his feet. McGee cried out in pain and started to collapse. Morris swore in disgust then threw McGee roughly over his shoulder and carried him back to the cabin, down the stairs into the cellar where he dumped McGee back on the mattress which quickly became soaked with McGee's blood.

Frank stood looking at his semiconscious captive in irritation but with a touch of respect. His own head was throbbing and he had to admit, he'd gotten complacent. He'd expected something like this early on but when Gemcity never made a move, Frank decided he'd been right about the man's cowardly demeanor. Turned out the guy had a bit of a backbone after all. He reached down and refastened the shackle around his captive's ankle. He then walked to the far wall and gently pushed shut the secret door to the emergency escape tunnel he had dug when he'd renovated this basement. _Came in handy after all,_ he thought smugly.

Now he turned his attention to Thom's wound. He'd hit him in the lower leg and although the bullet had gone all the way through, it had obviously shattered the bone as it passed. Bits of bone could be seen protruding through the exit wound. Again Frank sighed in irritation. The story would never get finished at this rate. Although he normally worked as a computer programmer in Charlottesville, next week he was supposed to start a special assignment in Richmond which would much too far to commute. He was running out of time; he'd need to spur Gemcity on. He licked his lips and smiled. Things could certainly get more interesting.

When McGee finally regained consciousness, the throbbing in his leg was his first indication that he was still alive. He was desperately thirsty and his tongue felt swollen in his parched mouth. He opened his eyes and with a start saw that Frank was sitting just a few feet away watching him as intently as cat does his prey. McGee said nothing, waiting for his captor to make the first move. Frank smiled gently, a chilling sight. "You've been very bad, Thom," he said softly, his eyes never leaving McGee's. "You hurt me. You ran away. Why would you do that, Thom? I've given you everything you asked for. All I want is a story."

Still McGee remained mute. Shaking his head sadly as if genuinely sorry about what he about to do, Frank abruptly lashed out striking McGee savagely on his injured leg. He smiled contentedly as McGee screamed and writhed in agony. "Perhaps now you will spend more time working on my story and less on stupid escape attempts." Frank grabbed McGee by the front of his shirt and pulled him close. "Do I make myself clear, _Thom_?" he demanded coldly.

Unable to speak through the pain, Tim simply nodded. Frank smiled again. Now he looked down at Tim's leg. He had bandaged it to stop the bleeding but he was no doctor and had no way much less the inclination to try and set the broken bone. Well, if it killed McGee in the end, so be it. _As long as the story was completed_. He stood, returning a few moments later with the typewriter and paper placing them near McGee. He then turned and silently left the room.

Tim sobbed as waves of pain swept over him. It seemed as if they would never subside. He alternated between feeling hot and freezing cold, his body shaking uncontrollably. He'd lost a lot of blood if the stain on his mattress was any indication. Finally, the pain eased enough for him to look around and with a cry of relief he saw Frank had at least left him a glass of water. Again, he gulped it down relishing the sensation of the cool liquid flowing across his parched membranes. It wasn't nearly enough but it was a massive relief just the same.

He stared in anguish at the typewriter before him. The thought of continuing the story made him ill but what was he supposed to do? As long as he appeared to be writing, Frank would keep him alive. He felt hopelessness descend over him like a heavy curtain. Even if he finished it, he was dead. He was tempted to just give up. His leg would probably kill him in the end anyway. He knew it was broken and gangrene was a very real possibility. He smiled grimly. It was the least he could hope for anyway. For the time being, all he wanted to do was sleep. He'd let tomorrow take care of itself.

* * *

Tony tried to read the file before him. He really did. He'd been looking at it for the good part of an hour but if anyone had asked him what it was in it, he wasn't sure he could answer. It was now over a month since McGee had disappeared and they all knew he must be dead, after all, conventional wisdom said if you didn't get a kidnap victim back within 24 -48 hours chances are you never would. There had never been any ransom note or letter from some deranged killer gloating over his latest victory. There had been nothing and that was what had been so hard about this case. There was always _something _they could go on but this time…not a thing. Tony was actually surprised at how hard Tim's disappearance had hit him. Sure, he liked McGeek and had always been impressed by the guy's techie abilities but he found he genuinely missed him as a friend. Every day he came in hoping to find Probie at his desk pounding away at his keyboard but so far, it hadn't happened. They had discussed attempting to bring in another computer geek to help out but the few they'd tried hadn't lasted long under Gibb's iron fist. Tony sighed sadly staring over at the empty desk across from him.

"You miss him too, do you not?" Tony looked up to see Ziva watching him solemnly.

He at first tried to come up with a witty response but failed miserably. Finally, he just nodded. "Yeah, more than I ever thought I would."

Ziva followed his gaze to the empty desk. "I also miss him. He was a genuinely nice person in a job that deals with very bad ones. I often wondered how he ended up here. I wish we could find an answer to his disappearance." She paused looking away for a moment. "Then perhaps I could sleep at night."

Tony stared at her for moment in surprise. Then gave a small, sad laugh. "Me too, Ziva. Me, too.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Even as slowly as Tim typed, the story still managed to make progress. It was nearing its conclusion and the few pages Frank had read had thus far pleased him. It had been nearly a week since Tim's escape attempt and most of it had been spent in a feverish haze of pain and bouts of typing. He couldn't think beyond that. He was growing weaker with each passing day and unsurprisingly, his leg had become badly infected. He coughed deep and long and collapsed back against the pillows Frank had brought so Tim could more easily sit up to type. Tim knew he wouldn't be able to type much longer. His body was wracked by a bout of chills and he pulled his thin blanket more closely around him. His hands, he noticed, were freezing and he could barely grip the pencil he was using to make notations. Cursing, he lost his tenuous hold and the pencil fell between the wall and the mattress. Wearily, McGee reached down to find it in and frowned. There was something else down there. Slowly he pulled it out and stared stupidly at the object in his hand. Then it dawned on him…his cell phone! He now remembered pulling it off the shelf and sticking in his pocket. It must have fallen out at some point. Mentally he Gibbs-slapped himself for not thinking of this sooner!

Almost fearfully, he studied the phone in his hand. It was off but would it still work after almost six weeks? Long ago, fed up with short-lived cell phone batteries, he had tinkered around creating one that would last weeks instead of days but he'd never tried letting it go this long. Holding his breath, he pushed the on button and watched with growing elation as the phone lit up. He almost cheered with excitement but frowned as he saw it only had one energy bar remaining. Not much juice left, but it might be enough. Now he turned his attention to the signal bars and hope exploded in his heart as he noted that although it wasn't strong, there was some reception; with shaking fingers, McGee began to press the buttons.

* * *

Abby Sciuto sat inconsolably in her lab hugging Bart, her stuffed hippo. She didn't even smile at his occasional farts. Most days, she was able to get through her work by pushing thoughts of McGee back into the farthest recesses of her mind but today, he wouldn't leave her alone. No matter what she did, memories of the missing agent kept intruding on her thoughts. She wiped away the errant tears and gritting her teeth got resolutely to her feet. "No!" she growled, "I've got work to do and bad guys to catch!" She turned her attention to her mass spectrometer trying to focus on the results it was spitting out but again, she found herself thinking of McGee. Where was he? Was her Timmy really dead or maybe he was being held prisoner waiting for them to rescue him! But it had been six weeks without a word. He couldn't still be alive…could he? She shivered. This was really getting hinky! Again, she took a deep breath and as she turned back to her machine she was startled by the unexpected ring tone of her cell phone. Frowning, she reached for her phone and checked the caller id. She froze, her entire body going cold with shock then with a small cry of anguish and confusion, she fumbled with the phone almost dropping it before she could connect.

"Hello!? McGee? Is that you!? Please let it be you!"

"Abby?" The voice was weak and the signal poor but Abby would have known McGee's voice anywhere.

"Oh my god!" she squealed jumping up and down. "It IS you! You're alive! I knew you weren't dead! I just knew it!"

"Abby! Abby please, listen to me! I don't have much time!" Tim's voice was desperate.

"Okay, okay, talk, McGee! I'm listening!" Silently, she continued bouncing and dancing in a circle of ecstatic delight.

"Abby," Tim began fighting for breath, "I've been kidnapped by a guy named Frank Morris. He wants me to write a book for him. I don't have much time left. Trace my phone. Find me…please…"

Instantly, Abby was all business silently berating herself for not thinking of that immediately. She had been so excited to find out that Tim wasn't dead everything else had flown from her mind. "Don't worry, McGee!" she barked trying to ignore the obvious pain in McGee's voice, "I'm on it!"

Quickly she turned to her computer and started up the GPS tracking program designed to keep tabs on all the agents' cell phones. She frowned in concentration trying to stay locked onto the weak signal. As she worked she became aware of another voice on the phone and she stiffened in horror as she listened.

"What's going on here?" an angry voice demanded. Abby assumed this must be the kidnapper. "Is that a _phone_ you have there!? Gimme that." She heard some struggling and then she nearly dropped the phone when Tim's piercing scream of pain almost shattered her eardrum.

"Timmy!" she cried staring at the phone in her hand. She'd never heard such a horrible sound before in her entire life.

"Oh ho!" sneered the voice. "Sounds like it must be your little girlfriend. Hello, sweetheart!" The voice was now addressing her and Abby felt ice cold. "Since your boyfriend felt he should call you, then I guess it's only fair that you get to listen in on his punishment."

"I don't know who you are, you creep!" cried Abby furiously, "But you leave McGee alone!" She turned desperately towards her computer screen and shouted in victory as the results came up indicating where the cell phone was currently located.

"Hey Abs, what's going on?" Abby whirled around to see Gibbs sauntering in, eyeing her questioningly. He'd come down to see if the DNA tests connected to their current case were done and now he found his forensic specialist flushed and excited.

"Gibbs!" she screamed throwing herself into his surprised arms. "It's McGee! He's alive! His kidnapper is on the phone and he's hurting McGee but I found him and I tracked his cell phone to the mountains near Covington and you gotta go get him now, Gibbs or he'll kill him!!!"

Gibbs stared at her for a split second then grabbed the cell phone and listened. He could hear grunting and moans of pain. He quickly identified the moans as coming from McGee. Then a deep voice spoke. "OK, Thom, we're going for a walk. I guess the jig is up and the book is as done as it's gonna get." Tense, Gibbs remained silent as he took the print out showing the location of cell phone. He turned and hurried back upstairs with a frantic Abby on his tail. He could hear the man walking and Tim's occasional cries of pain.

The kidnapper spoke again. "Well here we are. I dug this hole awhile back figuring I might need it some day and that day seems to be now." Gibbs stepped out of the elevator and froze as he heard an ominous clunk and then digging noises followed odd thumping sounds. With a sinking heart he realized what he was hearing. The kidnapper had placed McGee in some kind of box and was burying him alive!

"Stop!" Gibbs yelled desperately into the phone.

There was a pause then the voice returned. "Well, now who have we got here? Another of Thom's friends? Well if you wanna rescue him, you got about four hours. I put some air tanks in with him, I mean he did write the story for me so I owed him at least that much. Good luck." The phone went dead.

Tony and Ziva looked up as Gibbs and Abby exited the elevator and looking at Gibbs' icy expression, they knew something was seriously wrong. Abby ran over to them, hands flapping excitedly. "It's McGee!" she cried grabbing Tony's arm. "He's alive but the kidnapper, his name is Frank Morris, is hurting him! You've got to go get him before it's too late!"

A grim-faced Gibbs approached them. "It's worse than that, Abs," he reported tersely. "The bastard is burying McGee alive and we have less than four hours to rescue him."


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

Tim groaned then coughed wetly. His entire body hurt but his leg felt as if it were on fire. _Now_ where was he? He remembered fighting with Frank for the phone but one vicious kick to his injured leg had been more than McGee could take and he'd released the phone. But he had spoken to Abby hadn't he? That wasn't a dream…was it? He remembered little of what came next. Frank had unlocked his shackle and picked him up, throwing Tim over his shoulder like a bag of wheat. He must have fainted after that.

His eyes fluttered opened but he might as well have left them closed. The inky darkness was absolute. There was not even the merest hint of light. He blinked as he became aware of something over his nose and mouth. He tried to reach up to feel it but found there was very little room to maneuver. He stopped breathing as in one panic-filled moment he realized he was enclosed in some kind of box. He then became aware of a distant thumping noise. He moaned in terror recognizing the sound. Frank was burying him alive! Desperately he began pushing against the sides of the box, his heart racing. He panted with fear as he writhed in a claustrophobic induced panic just barely keeping the hysteria at bay. McGee had several phobias and being enclosed in a small box while being buried alive ranked right up there at the top.

_Tim! Tim, get a hold of yourself! _Tim fought for control. He was shaking violently and the pressure in his chest made it even more difficult to breathe. He could sense the lid of the box only inches above his face and his arms and legs screamed to move with the sides pressed firmly against them. It was almost as if the walls were starting to close in on him. He could clearly imagine the weight of hundreds of pounds of soil pressing down on him, crushing him…suffocating him…_STOP_! He _had_ to stop thinking like that!

_OK, Tim, take a deep breath and try to relax_. Tim desperately attempted to slow his breathing. He had finally realized that the thing on his face with an oxygen mask so he had some air, at least for the time being, but if he panicked, it would only be used up more quickly. The fact that Frank had provided him with air meant he was going to dig him back up…didn't it? Or was it just another way to torture his victims; give them a false sense of hope as the oxygen slowly disappeared making it more and more difficult to breathe as they ultimately suffocated deep below the surface of the earth. Tim could feel his heart starting to race even faster as panic surged once more.

As long as he was conscious, he knew he would never be able to keep a lid on his terror. Even now he was once more on the verge of going into screaming hysterics as his claustrophobia descended on him with renewed vengeance so he did the only thing he could think of. Using all the strength he could muster, he slammed is injured leg hard against the top of the box. In an explosion of agony, he felt a deep sense of relief as the hand of unconsciousness enveloped him bringing him the peace he so desperately sought. If he was lucky, maybe he'd never reawaken and the nightmare would be over.

* * *

Gibbs burst into Director Shepherd's office as she looked up in annoyance. Peering over her glasses at her agent she frowned as she took in his look of desperation.

"Jenny!" he barked striding to her desk, a piece of paper clutched in his hand. "We've located McGee. He's still alive or at least he was a short while ago. He's been buried alive and we less than four hours to find him." He slapped Abby's printout indicating the location of McGee's phone on the director's desk and pointed. "It's somewhere in the mountains near Covington. We'll never get there in time. We need a helicopter."

Jenny stared at him open-mouthed for a moment. "Jethro, are you sure?"

"Yes. McGee called Abby. Said he'd been kidnapped by some guy named Frank Morris. DiNozzo is checking on him now. Abby was able to trace the phone to this location. Morris made no attempt to cut off the contact so obviously he doesn't care that we've located him."

Jenny reached for her phone, "But how do you know he's been buried alive?" She shuddered at the thought as she began to dial.

Gibbs' jaw tightened as he remembered the haunting sounds. "Because I could hear it."

"Oh God, Jethro," she whispered, her eyes wide in horror. "Poor McGee. You'll have your helicopter. Do you want me to contact the local LEOs?"

Gibbs grunted his assent. "Make sure they bring a search and rescue dog. And an ambulance. " He studied the satellite map of the area and pointed to a spot about a quarter mile from where McGee's phone had registered. "Have them meet us here. It looks like there's a field where we can land the chopper. The rest of the area looks too hilly and heavily wooded." He sighed shaking his head. "I'm betting Morris has taken off so I had Ziva send out a BOLO for him. If we can catch the bastard before we get there, we can make him tell us where he buried McGee. Otherwise we'll need the dog to help find him."

Jenny finished her call and looked at Gibbs. "The helicopter will be ready by the time you and your team get to the airfield. I'll call the Covington police and state troopers now. Go find him, Gibbs. Bring McGee home."

Gibbs gave her a grim smile then turned and strode from the room. Jenny watched him go. She shuddered again as she thought of poor McGee being buried alive. It was not a fate she'd wish on anyone. If he survived, she had no doubt he'd need some intense counseling. If. She turned to her phone and began to dial once more.


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

The helicopter landed easily in the fallow field near the mountain road; nearby waited several police cars and an ambulance. The local sheriff, his deputies and several state troopers stood watching as Gibbs, Tony and Ziva exited the chopper and hurried across the field towards them.

A tall, thin man stepped forward as Gibbs approached. "You Special Agent Gibbs?"

"Yeah," replied Gibbs studying the men before him. "This is my team. Special Agents DiNozzo and David."

The man nodded and pushed out his hand. "Sheriff Mike MacDonald. These are my deputies," he indicated the four men behind him. "And this is Sergeant Klein from the Virginia State Troopers."

Klein stepped forward and shook Gibbs's hand. "Maybe you can fill us in a little more as to what's going on, Agent Gibbs," the trooper said. "Your director just said something about a missing agent being held somewhere around here."

Gibbs stared up the mountain. It was late afternoon and it had taken two hours since McGee's call for them to get here. Time was getting short. "One of my agents disappeared almost six weeks ago without a trace. This morning, we got a call from him saying he'd been kidnapped buy a guy named Frank Morris. We were able to trace the call to this area. We found that Morris owns some land here with a cabin." He pointed up the narrow, dirt road to his left. "The cabin is up this road about a quarter of a mile. We also believe Morris has buried our agent, Tim McGee, alive somewhere around the cabin."

MacDonald gaped at Gibbs in disbelief. "Now just hold on a second, Agent Gibbs! I know Frank Morris and there is no way he could be your man! A nicer, more stable fella you'll never find. I can't believe he'd actually _kidnap_ a federal agent, hold him prisoner for what, six weeks, then bury him alive!? That's insane! Why would he do something like that? It makes no sense!"

Gibbs turned and regarded MacDonald coldly. "All I know is that Frank Morris is the name McGee gave us. The location of Morris' cabin matches the location of McGee's cell phone. You tell me what that means."

MacDonald's mouth snapped shut but he continued to look troubled. He exchanged confused looks with his deputies.

Gibbs quickly outlined their plan. They would approach the cabin on foot and create a perimeter around the building in case Morris was still around, although Gibbs had no doubt the man had already taken off. He still vaguely hoped that he was hiding somewhere in the woods and they might still track him down. The K-9 officer brought out a large German shepherd who regarded the officers with dark, intelligent eyes.

With a nod from Gibbs, the officers spread out around the woods while he and his two agents took point. Gibbs wanted his team to be the ones that entered the cabin first and the others were content to let the NCIS agents run the show. The dog handler and his dog would await their call. They would be needed to search for Tim and possibly track Morris.

As they approached the cabin, Gibbs, Tony and Ziva paused to survey the area. The cabin sat in a small clearing surrounded by tall oaks and maples glowing red and gold. With the low angle of the sun, it was in deep shadows now and the air was cold. There was no sign of life. Gibbs nodded to his agents and Tony slipped out of the trees and keeping to the shadows made his way to the back while Gibbs and Ziva moved silently towards the front door. Still there was no evidence of anyone in residence.

As soon as they were in position, Gibbs and Ziva threw open the front door and burst into the cabin, guns drawn. They heard Tony enter through the back door. Rapidly, they moved through the small residence making sure it was empty. At the last call of "Clear!" Gibbs began to search the premises hoping to find a clue as to Tim's whereabouts. His gut told him that despite the four hours Morris claimed they had to locate the missing agent, time was running out.

"Boss!" Gibbs turned to find Tony examining another door with a large bolt on the outside. Currently the door stood open and they could see steep wooden stairs leading down in the dark basement. Tony flicked a switch and a dim bulb glowed illuminating the space below. As they contemplated their next step, Ziva joined them, a small dark object in her hand. She held it out with a bleak look. It was McGee's wallet.

"Well, at least we know we've got the right place," said Gibbs grimly. He turned his attention back to the basement door and drawing his gun once more began to cautiously make his way down the steps with Tony close behind. It took them only a moment to determine the basement was also empty. It was nothing more than a large open room with cinderblock walls. An aged washer and dryer stood in one corner and various boxes and piles of miscellaneous discarded items lined the walls.

Gibbs pointed to Tony and silently, the two began circling the room looking for any clues. As Gibbs reached the end of the room near the washer and dryer, he noticed there was a small jog in the wall leading to a short hallway ending in another door with a heavy bolt. This too stood open. Silently Gibbs slipped in and froze.

It was obvious this small room was where McGee had been held. A typewriter sat abandoned on the floor near a soiled mattress with a small table and chair lying nearby. Picking up a discarded sheet of paper, Gibbs recognized Tim's writing style. He then remembered Abby telling him that McGee said this Morris guy had wanted McGee to write a book for him. Was _that_ what this was all about? _A book? _Gibbs turned quickly at a sound behind him but it was only Tony.

DiNozzo studied the room and approaching the mattress he felt his stomach clench at the sizeable blood stain marring its gray surface. He silently cursed as he noticed the manacle attached to the wall. It was also covered with blood."Looks like he lost a lot of blood, Boss," said Tony softly, glancing up at his superior. "What did that sonofabitch _do_ to him!?" He was visibly shaken as he stood up and turned to Gibbs. "You want me to call the dog guy?"

"Yeah, Tony. I think McGee's time is about up."

Ten minutes later, the shepherd, Baron, was hard at work. The handler allowed Baron to smell the mattress and wallet, then told him to find. The dog instantly worked his way up the stairs and to a couple of places around the cabin, then out the back door. Suddenly, he stopped and began shaking his head sneezing and whining. The handler knelt down, examined his unhappy dog and then the ground. He cursed looking up at Gibbs with an angry frown. "This area has been totally saturated with red pepper! Baron won't be able to smell a thing for hours."

Gibbs closed his eyes for just a second as the implications of this hit him. They would have to start searching manually and hope they didn't miss anything. Waiting for another dog would take too long. "OK," he said, a note of urgency now evident in his voice, "We'll set up a grid and start searching for any freshly dug earth although he may have camouflaged his dig. Morris couldn't have gone very far from the cabin to bury McGee so watch for anything suspicious." He paused looking at his watch. "We need to hurry. If he's still alive, he doesn't have much time left."

Tony headed east from the cabin, his eyes desperately searching for anything sign of digging. He was still upset about what he'd seen in the basement. The thought of his Probie suffering like that for weeks on end made him sick. He felt like he'd failed McGee. If only they could have found him sooner! He swore that if they found McGee alive, he would definitely be nicer to the junior agent.

He could feel the time ticking away with each step he took. Tony didn't dare move too quickly in case he missed anything. He looked at the sky; the sun would soon be gone and then searching would become even more difficult. He knew the troopers had sent out word for lights and more help to comb the area for McGee's grave. Tony winced at the word. It was _not _McGee's grave he told himself. They would find Tim alive. They _had_ to!

* * *

Tim didn't even bother opening his eyes this time when consciousness slowly returned to him. He could tell nothing had changed. Well, that wasn't quite true. He was having even more trouble breathing. His body was wracked by a deep fit of coughing that left him shaking and exhausted. He could taste blood. He knew the air was growing increasingly foul which told him it was almost gone. His intense claustrophobia had not abated in the least. If he had had the strength, he would have screamed and pounded on the box around him but that time had passed and he could feel his tenuous hold on life weakening. In his mind, he said his good-byes to his parents and sister, to Gibbs, Tony, Ducky, Ziva and of course, his dear Abby. He smiled faintly as he imagined her luminous eyes and mischievous grin framed in coal black pigtails. He would always love her even if she didn't feel the same way. Dear, sweet, funny Abby. His good-byes said, he sighed softly and settled back to wait for the end. There would be no cavalry this time.


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

Ziva shone her flashlight carefully around the woods behind the cabin, her eyes scrutinizing the forest floor. This was not the first time she had searched for a hidden grave but as always, she prayed it would be the last. She also prayed that unlike previous searches, they would find their quarry alive. To come so close only to lose him in the end was not something she wanted to contemplate. She had lost many comrades in the Mossad in the line of duty but losing McGee or Tony would be very different. They were friends. They cared for her and McGee's gentle soul had touched her in unexpected ways. She was used to hard, cold men who never thought twice about the people they killed. She had seen the pain in McGee's eyes whenever he recalled the off-duty Metro cop he had killed thinking the man had shot at him. Killing would never come easy to such a man as Timothy McGee. But McGee had not given up and she respected his unexpected inner strength. She thought about being buried alive and shivered. Like most people, it was terrifying thought and knowing Tim's phobias, she wondered if being buried like this would destroy his sanity. It wouldn't be the first time such a thing had happened.

She sighed and rubbed her eyes. Her light played across the colorful leaves blanketing the forest floor. The sun was almost below the horizon and little light reached beneath the canopy of fall foliage. She pulled her jacket closer around her. The temperature was dropping quickly and could get to freezing tonight. She turned and continued walking.

If she had turned even a step or two more, she would have missed it; It was was a small thing, a tiny heap of dirt just barely visible under the scattered forest detritus. Because it was lighter in color than the surrounding soil, it just barely caught her attention but it was enough. She turned back and stooped down to examine the soil. It was only an inch or two high and although the top layer had dried, beneath was still moist. She stood and shone her light on the area. It was covered with dead branches, leaves and brush. She went cold as a chill went down her back. She studied the ground around her and there she saw a boot print off to one side. She snatched her walkie-talkie from her belt and clicked the talk button.

"Gibbs. I have found something. Approximately two hundred yards directly behind the cabin."

"On my way."

Carefully, Ziva began moving away some of the debris, gratified to find more fresh dirt below. This had to be the place! She began working more quickly pulling away the branches and brush. Behind her, she heard Gibbs and Tony scrambling through the brush towards her. Without a word they began helping her to clear the area. MacDonald and two of his deputies arrived with shovels and handing them to the NCIS agents, they stood back and watched them dig. MacDonald called for the paramedics to meet them but he wondered if their services would really be necessary.

Gibbs and Tony began to dig frantically. Gibbs checked his watch again going cold as he rapidly calculated the amount of oxygen Tim should have left. It was probably about gone. Gritting his teeth, his determination to find his missing agent grew even stronger. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, his shovel hit something solid. He and Tony hesitated, exchanged anxious glances then began digging more desperately. They hadn't even noticed the lights the sheriff had rigged to allow them greater visibility. Ziva and the other officers helped haul dirt out of the hole.

MacDonald stared into the hole. "Damn," he muttered shakily to the trooper beside him. "Morris never had any plans to dig this guy up. This was meant to be a grave pure and simple."

Klein glanced at him, eyebrow raised. "So now you believe it was this Morris guy?"

MacDonald shrugged unhappily. "I thought I knew Frank. I mean, the guy's raised funds for all kinds of charities, volunteers at the local soup kitchen, helped build an activity center for senior citizens. It's hard to picture him as some kind of psycho killer."

The trooper chuckled mirthlessly. "Yeah, and everyone thought John Wayne Gacy was the greatest guy on earth too. But tell that to all those kids he murdered." McDonald remained silent.

They were now clearing the top of the box. It was made of plywood and shaped exactly like a coffin. Gibbs felt ill but worked quickly to clear off enough soil so they could open the box and get Tim out.

"Tim!" he called kneeling down on the surface of the box. "Tim, it's Gibbs! Hold on! We're almost there! If you can hear me, knock!" He waited for only a moment but the box was silent. Cursing softly he turned to Tony. "Come on, we gotta get this lid off!" Digging furiously the two men worked in the cramped confines of the pit they had created trying to free the lid. Panting in frustration, they pulled fruitlessly at the edges of the lid but it remained stubbornly shut.

"Boss!" gasped Tony, wiping the sweat from his dirt streaked face. "There's a lock!" Cursing louder, Gibbs turned to where Tony was pointing and saw that the lid was actually secured by a two small padlocks, one on either side. This bastard was not making it easy. Using the shovel, Gibbs savagely struck at first one lock then the other finally breaking them open. Once the locks were removed, he and Tony stepped off the lid and onto the surrounding dirt and pulled at the top again. This time, the lid moved. Pulling with all their might, the two men finally managed to lift it free. At last they had reached McGee. But were they in time?

Handing the lid up to MacDonald and the others, Gibbs knelt over the figure in the coffin and felt a surge of short-lived relief. It was McGee but he was pale and didn't appear to be breathing. An empty air tank was wedged near his feet. Removing the useless mask, Gibbs reached up so the paramedics could hand him one now attached to their oxygen tank. "Come on, Tim," he muttered fiercely, looking into the young man's gray, emaciated face as he gently fastened the new mask over McGee's nose and mouth, "Don't die on me now! I've got too much invested in you! _Breathe_!"

He moved out of the way and in moments, the paramedics had McGee out of the hole on securely fastened to a stretcher while they began resuscitation attempts. The three NCIS agents stood helplessly nearby, horrified by their comrade's appearance. McGee was but a shadow of his former self, the pallid skin pulled tight against the sharp bones of his face. Tony felt himself pale as he glanced at McGee's mangled leg, bones evident through the torn, blood-soaked bandage Morris had applied.

"I have a pulse!" announced one of the paramedics in relief looking up at Gibbs and the others while another paramedic rhythmically pumped air into McGee's lungs. The third had moved onto McGee's leg quickly wrapping and splinting it in preparation for transport. As soon as they felt McGee was stable, they lifted the stretcher and began the trek back to the cabin where the ambulance stood waiting. Once Tim was loaded, Gibbs climbed on board and settled himself near the foot of McGee's stretcher. He had no intentions of allowing Tim to take this trip alone. They'd lost him once and Gibbs would make sure he didn't disappear again.

Side by side, their faces mirroring bleak despair, Ziva and Tony watched silently as the ambulance slowly made its way down the dirt track towards the main road. Sheriff MacDonald came towards them, his face pale and drawn.

"I never woulda thought Frank Morris would do something like this," he began quietly also watching as the ambulance's tail lights disappeared around the curve. "I've got men watching the roads for his SUV. He drives a red Bronco. It's pretty well known around these parts. Klein told me he's issued another BOLO with the vehicle information." He paused for a moment then faced the two NCIS agents. "We also plan on bringing in some more dogs and searching the grounds more thoroughly come morning."

Ziva nodded absently. "Yes. That is wise. If he has done this once, it is very possible he has done something like this before. There may be other victims buried on his property."

MacDonald wearily rubbed a hand over his face. "If you two are ready, I'll give you a ride to the hospital. We can handle things here for the time being and I expect you'd like to be with your man."

"Thanks, sheriff," said Tony with a nod of appreciation. A short while later, he and Ziva were on their way to Covington and both prayed they would find their friend in better shape than when he'd left. Tony rubbed his aching head then reached into his pocked to pull out his cell. He flipped open the phone, punched in the number but before he could even open his mouth was barraged by an onslaught of frantic queries: Had they found McGee? Was he alive? Where was he now? Were they OK?..."

"Abby," began Tony patiently. "Abby! ABBY!!!" Finally she paused. Tony wasn't sure it was because she'd finally heard him or because she needed to stop for air.

"Yeah, Tony?" she said meekly.

"We found him. He's alive. Maybe not looking his springtime freshness best but he's alive and that's the important thing! Gibbs went with him to the hospital. Ziva and I are on our way. He's gonna be all right, Abby. Do you understand me? He's gonna be OK. Gibbs won't let him die."

"OK, Tony." He could hear her softly sobbing. "I just can't lose another one of you guys." A moment later, Ducky came on the phone.

"You found him, Anthony?" the ME asked quietly.

"Yeah Ducky," replied Tony wearily. "He's alive. We weren't too sure there for a minute when we found him but he was breathing when he left here. We're on our way to meet Gibbs at the hospital now."

"Thank God," breathed Ducky. Tony could hear the relief in Ducky's voice. He'd been as worried as the rest of them and Tony was glad the older man was there to stay with Abby. Tony hated to think of her there alone with nothing to think about but McGee buried alive.

"Ducky, I gotta go, but tell Abby I'll call as soon as we know anything, OK? Tell her not to worry. McGee is tougher than he looks."

Ducky chuckled softly. "I'll tell her although she hardly looks in the mood to listen. I think she's ready to pack her bags and head to Covington." He paused. "Anthony?"

"Yeah, Ducky?"

"Please call soon."


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER 9**

Gibbs watched silently as the paramedic next to him went about his business. He replaced the IV bag as the first one emptied. It was imperative they get some fluids into McGee's severely dehydrated body. His partner continued the process of ventilation since McGee didn't seem inclined to breathe on his own.

"How long was he missing?" the paramedic asked as he continued to carefully monitor McGee's vitals.

"Six weeks."

The man glanced at Gibbs and shook his head. "It's not often you find them alive after all that time."

Gibbs said nothing. He was fighting down the tumultuous emotions that were rising within him. Losing men was never easy. When Agent Todd had been killed, he'd almost lost it but he thought part of that was a result of the guilt knowing that she'd been murdered by a rogue Mossad agent by the name of Ari simply because Ari wanted to make Gibbs suffer. But here was Tim McGee, having endured weeks of torment including being buried alive, barely hanging onto life and Gibbs found the pain was just as terrible. He'd brought the computer expert onto his team knowing that despite his incredible technical skills, McGee wasn't really a field agent yet time and time again, the young man had proven himself to be a damn good agent. Gibbs felt a surge of anger. But that wasn't what this was all about was it? To die in the line of duty was one thing but this whole affair seemed to stem from some crazy book fan's infatuation with McGee's writing!

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the squeal of an alarm. He looked up to see the paramedic rapidly preparing the defibrillation paddles. McGee's heart had stopped. "Clear!" McGee's body jerked as the paddles were firmly applied to his bared chest. Gibbs winced as he realized he could count every rib and glimpsed the deep, ugly bruises covering McGee's torso. It took two more attempts before McGee's heart began pumping weakly once more. Gibbs noticed the two paramedics exchange worried looks. He began to wish he had pushed the idea of taking McGee on the helicopter to the hospital but had been dissuaded by the paramedics' logical argument that the helicopter was not equipped with all the emergency medical equipment found in the ambulance. It just seemed to be taking too damn long!

Once the ambulance reached town, they made better time and soon pulled into the hospital's emergency bay where a team was waiting to meet them. Gibbs found himself pushed to the side as the medical experts took his agent in hand. A nurse took pity on him and showed him to the ER waiting area. Thirty minutes later, Tony and Ziva rushed in with MacDonald trailing behind.

"How is he, Boss?" demanded Tony brusquely. "I called Abby and Ducky and told them we found McGee but that's all I could tell them. You can imagine how Abby took _that_! I think she plans on driving down here right now."

Gibbs studied the empty cup of coffee he held loosely in his hands. "I dunno, Tony," he finally replied. "His heart stopped on the way here but they started it back up. I've heard nothing since I got here."

"That is not right!" growled Ziva glaring at the ER entrance. "I shall go and _make_ them tell us how McGee is doing!"

Gibbs gave a small smile at his Israeli agent's typical response to frustration. "Hang on, Ziva," he soothed. "We just need to let the docs do their job."

MacDonald had gone over and spoken briefly with the receptionist and was now approaching them. "Carol said there hasn't been any word on your agent. He's in surgery but that's all she knows. She assured me the doctor will be out as soon as they have something to tell us."

So they waited. Ziva paced the room like a caged animal; waiting was not her forte. Tony fielded the constant calls from Abby demanding updates on McGee. "Abby, I _told_ you, I'll call you as soon as I know anything! I promise!" He shook his head and replaced his cell phone. "She's gonna run down my battery and then I won't be able to call her!"

It was another two hours before the doctor came out looking for them. He looked exhausted as he escorted them into a private office. He introduced himself as Dr. Weber. Gibbs stared hard at him. "Well doc? How is he?"

The doctor looked at the group before him and sighed. "Well, the good news is he's still alive. He was in deep shock by the time he got here from blood loss and infection. He is also suffering from starvation, dehydration as well as a collapsed lung and pneumonia. We took him into surgery to reinflate his lung and to treat his leg. Appears he was shot in the lower leg and the bullet severely fractured both his left tibia and fibula. It also seems the leg was rebroken more than once and is now seriously infected. We decided to try and save the leg but it may still need to come off."

"But, is he gonna be OK?" broke in Tony impatiently.

"I don't know," replied Dr. Weber frankly. "Right now, his condition is extremely critical. His heart has stopped twice since he's been here and his kidneys and other systems have shut down but we're hoping with rehydration and so on, we'll get them back on line. As soon as we feel he's stable enough, we'll move him into the CCU." He turned to Gibbs. "Agent Gibbs, I don't know if we can save your agent but we are doing everything possible."

"I'd like to see him, doc," said Gibbs quietly.

Weber opened his mouth to protest but something in Gibbs' demeanor stopped him. "All right. But just for a moment." He turned and led Gibbs through the labyrinthine passages of the ER unit until they came to the OR recovery area where two nurses were closely monitoring a bank of equipment. On a gurney, attached to a myriad of tubes lay McGee.

_Damn_, thought Gibbs in dismay seeing Tim lying there so still and pale. _He looks so young! _Gibbs slowly walked up to the gurney, laid his hand gently on McGee's arm and leaned close. Weber watched curiously as he observed Gibbs whisper urgently into the young man's ear. For an instant, Weber thought he detected a slight increase in McGee's heart rate on the monitor. Perhaps whatever Gibbs was saying to him was actually getting through. Weber certainly hoped so. This patient was going to need all the help he could get.

Gibbs and his team spent the night in the waiting room waiting for any news of McGee. They looked up in surprise when Abby and Ducky hurried in. Abby rushed up to Gibbs and threw herself into his arms. "Oh Gibbs, tell me he's still alive! I couldn't possibly bear losing someone else! Tell me Timmy is going to be OK!"

Gibbs patted her a little awkwardly then pushed her away to look her in the eyes. "Abby, he's still alive. I can't tell you he's going to be OK but I know he's fighting."

Abby brushed the tears away and tried to smile bravely. "You're right, Gibbs. Tim is tougher than he looks. He won't let this guy beat him!" She chewed on her lip as Ziva guided her to a nearby seat.

Gibbs turned to Ducky, his eyebrow lifted. Dr. Mallard, the NCIS medical examiner smiled sadly. "Director Shepard knew we'd want to be here once Tony informed her that Timothy had been found alive. She arranged transport." He hesitated. "How is he Jethro?"

Gibbs looked away with a sigh. "Not too good, Ducky, but he's alive and as long as he's alive, there's hope." He shook his head in bewilderment. "And you know, this didn't have one damn thing to do with NCIS. It was because some nutcase wanted Tim to write him a book! _A book_!"

Ducky tilted his head as he studied Gibbs. "Jethro, you do know this is not your fault? There is no way any of us could have predicted a crazed fan would actually kidnap Timothy and keep him a prisoner!"

"Maybe not, Ducky," replied Gibbs flatly, "But that bastard had him for _six weeks_! I should have been there for Tim." He hesitated his face taking on a haunted look. "You didn't see him in that box, Ducky. Lying there just like a corpse." He looked away as the image resurfaced. "For all practical purposes he _was_ a corpse. He wasn't breathing when we found him and didn't have a pulse." It was like Agent Todd all over again.

Ducky shook his head in frustration. How often he'd had similar conversations with this man! Gibbs insisted on taking the weight of the world on his shoulders. Ducky tried again. "Yes, but Jethro, this had nothing to do with Timothy being an NCIS agent. It was apparently because of a book he wrote! However, because _you_ are an NCIS agent, you were able to find him in time!" Now he was silent for a few moments. "If Timothy survives this, he will undoubtedly need psychological counseling."

Gibbs gave a small laugh as he sat back down in his chair and leaned back. "We all may by the time this is over."

The next day, McGee was moved into CCU and one person was allowed to stay with him at a time. They had contacted Tim's family and they were on their way but until then, his NCIS family would take care of him. The first day was difficult with Tim going into cardiac arrest two more times but as they stabilized his condition with blood transfusions and other fluids, his heart stabilized as well. Their hopes rose.

Abby had sobbed uncontrollably the first time she'd gone in to see Tim but she soon pulled herself together and spent her time with him regaling him with stories of her wild life. He might not be conscious but she was certain he could hear her just the same. Shortly before Tim's parents arrived to replace her, she held Tim's hand and said softly, "Please don't die, Timmy. We need you!" Wiping away her tears she rejoined the others now in the cafeteria.

Gibbs had spoken to Director Shepard and she was willing to give them until the end of the week to stay in Covington but their time was growing short. Cases were piling up back in the office. They hoped that once Tim was strong enough he could be transferred to Bethesda but that might be awhile.

Tim had still not regained consciousness four days after they'd found him and now it was time for the NCIS agents to return to Washington. MacDonald approached Gibbs as the NCIS agent left the hospital for the last time. "Agent Gibbs, you gotta minute?"

Gibbs stopped and regarded the sheriff expectantly. "Still no word on Morris," began MacDonald grimly. "We got a call this morning that the Delaware state police located his vehicle last night abandoned at a truck stop. Obviously he's found some other mode of transportation. There's been no hits on his credit cards or cell phone but Frank's not a fool and would be aware of the usual ways we can track fugitives."

Gibbs pressed his lips into hard line. The fact they hadn't located Morris bothered him a lot. He was concerned for Tim's sake. Gibbs had no idea if that lunatic would come back for Tim or simply make good his escape. Gibbs wasn't taking any chances however, and had arranged for round the clock protection for McGee while he was in the hospital.

"Thanks, Sheriff," Gibbs finally replied. "We've got people working on this in Washington as well. We'll find the sonofabitch before he has a chance to hurt anyone else."

The next morning found Gibbs and his team back in Washington hard at work. They had copies of the sheriff's and state police records of the case but there was nothing new. Morris hadn't been sighted and for all they knew, he could be in Canada by now.

McGee's parents kept in touch with Gibbs letting him know how Tim was doing. He was improving but not nearly fast enough. With the various infections attacking his body, the antibiotics were barely making any headway. Dr. Weber was worried that they couldn't seem to get a handle on the pneumonia but the infection in his leg was showing some improvement. He was hopeful the leg could be saved. McGee remained unconscious which also worried Weber. Weber had detected evidence of an earlier concussion but nothing that would explain why McGee had shown no signs of awakening. Weber had conferred with a colleague who thought it might be McGee's defense to being buried alive.

"If he's not awake, he doesn't have to try and deal with it," the psychiatrist had said simply. They could do nothing but wait and hope the young man would eventually come out of it.


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER TEN**

It was a gray, dismal day ten days after he'd been pulled alive from his grave that Tim McGee finally came to. It was early morning and the hospital was quiet. Tim woke slowly becoming gradually aware of his surroundings. He could hear soft beeping noises in the background as the cardiac monitor kept careful track of his heart rate. He could detect the cold, antiseptic smell of the hospital and felt the soft blanket covering him. His eyes fluttered open and for a moment stared unseeing into the dimly lit hospital room. His mind was blank. He blinked as the room came into focus. It was empty except for himself and the assortment of medical equipment surround him.

_Hospital. _He thought vaguely_. "I'm in a hospital. Is that good? Why am I in a hospital?" _He looked down the length of his body and saw his leg was elevated and swathed in plaster. OK, his leg must have been broken. He coughed painfully causing him to rub his ribs with a wince. Maybe he was sick too. He thought hard trying to recall the events that brought him here then with startling clarity he saw himself in a coffin buried deep beneath the earth. His entire body went rigid, heart beat racing causing alarms to sound. In seconds, a nurse and intern hurried into the room.

"Agent McGee?" said the nurse loudly as the intern began checking McGee's vitals. "Agent McGee, can you hear me? Everything is all right! You're safe in the hospital. Do you understand?" She glanced at her colleague.

"His BP just went through the roof," muttered the intern reading the monitor, "and his heart rate is up to 120." He now turned to McGee. "Agent McGee, you're all right. Do you understand? Please, try and relax. You're safe!" McGee's eyes were staring blankly ahead, his face white and breathing ragged but eventually it seemed their words must have penetrated his panic-filled mind as he slowly began to relax.

Gasping for breath, McGee closed his eyes, his body wracked by powerful shudders. The nurse held his hand and continued to utter soothing words. Finally, he opened his eyes and focused their concerned faces. "I'm OK?" he rasped.

They smiled encouragingly at him. The intern leaned forward. "Yes, Agent McGee. You're OK. You're in the hspital. You've been here for ten days but you're getting better. Your parents will be here later this morning."

McGee closed his eyes as he considered this. "NCIS?"

"They were here for several days after you were, uh, rescued but had to return to Washington."

"They call every day," added the nurse quickly. "They are very worried about you. Special Agent Gibbs said he would be here a few days." Arrangements had been made to transfer McGee to Bethesda Naval Hospital and Gibbs wanted to be with McGee during the process. Since Morris still hadn't been captured, Gibbs felt it would be better to have McGee closer to home where they could keep an eye on him.

McGee nodded weakly at this news and drifted back into sleep. The intern, satisfied with McGee's vitals, turned to leave. "I'll let Dr. Weber know that Agent McGee has regain consciousness. I know that'll make him feel better."

The nurse took a last look as their patient as she turned to join her colleague. "His parents should be here soon. I know it will certainly be a relief to them. Not to mention the NCIS agents! That Agent Gibbs makes me a little nervous!" The intern laughed and the two softly closed the door behind them leaving McGee alone once more.

The next time McGee awoke, his parents were there watching him anxiously. "Tim?" he heard his mother say. He turned his head and blinked, trying to bring her into focus. _She looked so tired_, he thought with a start.

"Mom?"

Elizabeth McGee smiled in relief, wiping at the tears that were starting to trickle down her pale face. She had been so worried about her only son. She had never fully believed he was dead no matter what anyone else said. She'd felt certain she would know in her heart if he were. She gently squeezed his hand. "Yes, Tim, I'm here."

Tim smiled weakly in return. He could see his father standing next to her, his face lined with fatigue. Somehow, he looked much older than Tim remembered. "We're both here, son." His father's deep voice broke as he fought tears of his own. That alarmed Tim more than anything. His father _never_ cried.

"Don't worry, Dad," rasped Tim trying to push himself up to prove that he really was in better shape than he appeared. Unfortunately, he simply didn't have the strength to move more than a few inches. _OK_, Tim thought in resignation , _maybe I _am_ in as bad a shape as I appear._

"Just lie still, Tim," said his mother, gently pushing him back into the pillows. "You've had a pretty rough time of it and you need to rest."

_Rough time. Oh yes, I've had a rough time_, thought Tim suppressing an irrational desire to laugh. _If you only knew the half of it! _He closed his eyes but they flew open almost immediately as the sensation of being trapped in the box resurfaced again.

"Tim?" McGee could feel his mother's tight grip on his arm as he fought the panic that attempted overwhelm him once again. He couldn't breathe! The earth was pressing down on him…he was going to die! He began thrashing trying to escape his underground prison, no longer hearing his parents' frantic cries. A few moments later, several hands had wrestled him down and feeling a sharp prick in his arm, he collapsed panting and moaning onto the bed.

Gibbs stood in the doorway watching the scene with growing dismay. He'd seen more than his fair share of soldiers suffering from post traumatic stress syndrome and it was obvious to him that like those soldiers, Tim was reliving the horror of his recent ordeal. Gibbs had decided not to wait once he'd heard McGee had regained consciousness and had come directly from Washington. Obviously the decision had been a good one.

As McGee gradually relaxed under the influence of the sedative, Dr. Weber approached Gibbs shaking his head. "This is what happened when he first regained consciousness. He wasn't quite as violent though. "

"Being buried alive is pretty traumatic," observed Gibbs quietly watching McGee's parents talking softly to their son.

"I can only imagine," sighed Weber looking back at his patient. "I'm hoping that the longer he remains conscious, the better he'll be able to deal with the memories but I have no doubt it will be a long road."

Gibbs nodded. "When do you think we can transfer him to Washington, doc? I'd like to get him there as soon as possible."

"Well, let's see how he does today. We should be able to transfer him the day after tomorrow if he's doing all right."

Gibbs nodded again. As the doctor departed, Gibbs quietly entered the room. McGee's eyes were somewhat unfocused but he was awake. McGee's parents smiled worriedly as their son's boss approached. They exchanged glances and with a nod, McGee's parents left, telling Tim they were going to get some coffee and would return shortly.

"Hey, Boss," said McGee weakly, struggling to focus.

Gibbs smiled. "How ya doin', McGee? Welcome back. You had us worried. Even DiNozzo. Without you to harass, he's been driving everyone else crazy."

McGee gave a feeble laugh. "I can only imagine." He lay silently for a few moments. "He may have to find himself a new target."

"Tim," replied Gibbs firmly, "Your job will wait for you as long as it takes. Once we found out you were still alive, Director Shepard told me to make that very clear to you."

McGee was silent awhile longer. "Thanks, Boss, but I'm not the same person I was before this all started. I don't think I can handle that kind of job any more. I know my kidnapping had nothing to do with NCIS but it could have been just as easily." Gibbs looked into McGee's haggard face. There was no doubt that Tim was not the same person. His eyes now harbored that distant, haunted look so common among survivors of horrific, life-threatening ordeals. It was if they were always someplace else, reliving the nightmares only imagined by others.

"Tim, this is not the time to make this decision. If you don't feel you can continue as a field agent, your computer skills alone make you an invaluable member of the agency. I've never seen anyone do what you can do with a computer. We need you, Tim."

McGee no long seemed to be listening. His eyes had grown more distant. "Morris is still out there, Boss," he whispered.

Gibbs jaw tightened. "Yeah, Tim, I know, but we're looking for him and we'll make damn sure that bastard never gets to you again. Do you understand?"

McGee closed his eyes and nodded slowly. "Thanks, Boss." A few moments later he was asleep. Gibbs stared at him sadly a few minutes more than sat down to wait for McGee's parents.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Thanks to all of you for taking the time to read and review! I can't tell you how much your encouraging comments mean. Thanks again and I hope you enjoy this chapter. Someone pointed out I had repeated a paragraph (forgot to delete it when I moved it elsewhere!) so I had to replace this chapter with the correction. Thanks Kar!

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

The motel where Frank was now hiding consisted of a series of dilapidated cabins well off the beaten path. It was run by an ancient alcoholic named Bob who had no interest in anything but where his next drink was coming from. Frank had kept him well stocked over the past week and a half with the result that Bob was rarely conscious of anything going on around him. He had no idea he was harboring a wanted fugitive and frankly, as long as the liquor kept coming, Frank doubted Bob would even care. Besides, if Bob became a issue, Frank could simply get rid of him. Problem solved.

However, despite his depressing surroundings, Frank Morris barely noticed the stained carpet or peeling wallpaper so engrossed was he in the book McGee had written for him. A shiver a pleasure of ran through him as time and time again his character performed acts of extreme heroism or brought a criminal to justice. This was perfect and truly captured the _real_ Franklin Morris! He had to give that Thom Gemcity credit, despite his geeky appearance, the guy could write. As he reached the final page Frank scowled. He had reached an especially exciting part where his character, now in possession of key information that would allow him to locate and disarm the nuclear warhead pointing towards Washington, D.C., was trapped on board a burning boat full of explosives. What would happen next!? He snarled in frustration as he hurled the manuscript across the room sending pages flying. It couldn't stop there! Damn! If only Gemcity hadn't gotten hold of the cell phone he would have finished the book before Morris got rid of him.

He stood up and began pacing the room in growing aggravation. _He did this on purpose! _Thought Morris angrily. _Gemcity waited until he was almost done to force me into punishing him! He knew it would make me angry and he figured he'd get his revenge by not finishing the book. _Frank paused, thinking hard. Had they rescued the writer, he wondered looking down at the scattered pages. If so, where was he now? Could he still be in Covington? Despite the fact that police had found his Bronco abandoned in Delaware, Frank had never left the area. He'd paid a guy he knew to drop the car off and because Peters was a wanted felon, Frank knew he'd be avoiding capture for his own sake. The money Frank paid him would help him get to Canada.

Frank tapped his chin thoughtfully. How could he find out if Gemcity had been rescued? If he were still alive, then there was a chance Frank could get his story finished and then get rid of the writer permanently. Frank wouldn't stand for anyone pulling a fast one on him and as far as he was concerned, that was exactly what Gemcity had done. He smiled as it occurred to him who could help him; his cousin in Mexico. The guy worked for a big drug lord down there and had connections all over the place. If anyone could find out what Frank wanted to know, it was Larry. Frank pulled out the disposable cell phone he had purchased a few days ago and still smiling began to dial.

**************

Dr. Weber put down the phone, his entire body felt numb. He had just gotten a call from the Arizona state police. His son had been seriously injured in a car accident outside Phoenix where Matt attended college. Weber would have to leave at once. He studied his calendar. His secretary could reschedule all of his appointments or pass them onto his colleagues along with his hospital patients. He frowned thinking of his current hospital patient roster. Agent McGee was scheduled to be transferred to Bethesda the day after tomorrow. Since he had regained consciousness earlier, they felt it was finally safe to move him. Well, that shouldn't be a problem. Dr. Nabi could handle the transfer. Weber nodded and picked up the phone to notify his secretary and start getting things arranged for his trip to Phoenix. He prayed Matt was all right.

* * *

Dr. Hosni Nabi was exhausted. He had been on call that night and it seemed there had been one emergency after another. A Greyhound bus accident has stretched his people to the breaking point and now he was barely able to construct a logical thought in his overworked brain. He looked at his watch. It was 4 am. He'd never gone home and all he could think of was bed.

"Excuse me, Dr. Nabi?" The physician turned to a nurse standing behind him with a paramedic and police officer hovering nearby.

"Yes?"

"They have come to transfer Agent Timothy McGee to Bethesda."

Dr. Nabi frowned trying to think. In addition to his own overwhelming case load, he had taken on a number of Weber's while the poor guy was in Arizona. He tried to remember what he'd been told about the transfer of the NCIS agent. "I thought that was supposed to be tomorrow." He said uncertainly rubbing his throbbing his head.

The nurse glanced at the orderly who simply shrugged and handed him some paperwork. "I was told they wanted to do the transfer early to avoid any possibility of running into the guy that kidnapped the agent." He nodded to the officer next to him. "This is Officer Montgomery who will be riding with us in the ambulance and there will be a police escort as well."

Dr. Nabi sighed and studied the paperwork in his hand. Well, it all looked in order. For all he knew, Weber had been informed of the date change but with his son's accident foremost in his mind had forgotten to pass on the information to Nabi. "All right. Nurse, prepare the patient for transfer. I'll get the paperwork taken care of and we'll get Agent McGee on his way."

The nurse nodded and exchanged glances with the two men with her as they hurried towards McGee's room. The officer stationed outside the door looked up as they approached, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. Something didn't feel right about this.

"Agent McGee is going to be transferred this morning to Bethesda," stated the nurse quietly. "We're here to get him ready."

The guard's frown deepened. "No one told me they changed the day," he said slowly. "Special Agent Gibbs will be here later this morning. He told the doctors he would be in charge of the transfer. I better call him."

"I don't think that will be necessary, officer." Officer Montgomery stepped forward with a disarming lu smile momentarily distracted the guard allowing the nurse the opportunity to step closer. Adeptly she plunged a hypodermic needle into the man's arm. The effect was immediate. The officer's body went rigid, his eyes rolling up into this head. The fake paramedic caught the guard's body as he collapsed, then silently hauled him into McGee's room and stuffed him into the small closet. They were being paid very well for this job and they would make sure they'd succeed.

After getting rid of the guard, the rest went smoothly. The nurse hurried over to McGee's bedside and deftly injected a sedative into his IV. They didn't want him conscious as they moved him. They didn't need him causing any problems. Choosing such an early hour had been chosen specifically so they would be dealing with exhausted personnel who just wanted things to move along so they could go home to bed the added bonus of the bus accident just insured the staff was even more distracted. The ones who really knew what was going on wouldn't be in for hours and that gave the kidnappers more than enough time to get away. Once they turned their prize over to the next team, they would quietly disappear until their next job.

Dr. Nabi watched briefly as the gurney bearing the unconscious NCIS agent disappeared into the elevator. He felt a moment of doubt but this was quickly forgotten as he was called to the next emergency. Agent McGee was one less thing for him to worry about.

* * *

Gibbs felt frustrated. He'd made sure there was always a guard on McGee's room but still he had this feeling something wasn't right. They planned on transferring Tim tomorrow morning after Weber checked him out and the sooner he was in the charge of NCIS, the better Gibbs would feel. There still had been no leads on Morris and that made Gibbs antsy.

When he reached the hospital he hurried to catch the elevator to the fifth floor where McGee was staying. When the doors opened, he stepped out and strode down the hallway towards McGee's room. As he approached the room he could hear loud, upset voices. He quickly identified one of them as Tim's father, Michael McGee, a retired naval officer. Something was obviously wrong.

"What do you mean my son has already been transferred to Bethesda?" demanded Commander McGee angrily. "We were told the transfer would take place tomorrow. Where is Special Agent Gibbs? He said he would be in charge of the transfer!"

"Here," stated McGee stepping into the room to find McGee's parents angrily confronting a short, dark man in scrubs. His name tag said "Dr. H. Nabi".

"Special Agent Gibbs," barked Commander McGee sharply, "What is the meaning of this? Why weren't we informed that you were transferring Tim so early?"

"Because we weren't," replied Gibbs now staring hard at the doctor. "What's going on?"

Dr. Nabi ran his hand through his short dark hair wincing at the pain in his gut. His ulcer was acting up. He briefly quailed inwardly as the stony faced man eyed him coldly. "I'm sorry," snapped the doctor irritably, "You are…?"

"NCIS Special Agent Leroy Gibbs. Agent McGee is my agent and I did _not_ authorize any transfer for this morning." Now he looked around with a frown. "Where is the guard that was posted here?"

Nabi shrugged but his anxiety levels were rising dramatically. "Went home, I suppose, once your agent left ."

Gibbs stared at him a moment longer than turned to study the small hospital room. There weren't any obvious signs of a disturbance. He noticed the closet door was firmly closed. Stepping closer, he stepped to one side and quickly yanked the door open allowing the guard's body to collapse onto the floor. Mrs. McGee gave a quiet gasp of horror as Gibbs knelt down and felt for a pulse. He looked up at the others. "He's dead."

Dr. Nabi stared in shock at the dead body before him then looked into Gibb's furious gaze. "I…I didn't know!" he whispered. "Their paperwork was all in order! It all appeared perfectly legitimate! I assumed Dr. Weber had just forgotten to tell me about the time change!"

Gibbs stood up, his eyes narrowing. "Where _is _Dr. Weber?"

Still staring at the body, Nabi said, "He got a call yesterday afternoon saying that his son had been in a serious car accident in Arizona. He was gone by early evening and I was asked to oversee Agent McGee's care until his transfer to Bethesda." Agitated, he ran his hand through his unruly hair once again. "Agent Gibbs, Mr. and Mrs. McGee, I am so sorry! I honestly didn't know!"

Gibbs, sensing that Commander McGee was about to explode once more, quickly stepped in to take charge. "All right. This room is now a crime scene. I want everyone out of here and the room sealed off. I'm calling in my team from Washington, including my ME. I think we know who's responsible and I'll be damned if I'll let McGee go through what he went through last time!" He turned to McGee's parents who were staring at Gibbs, desperate for some kind of reassurance. He put a hand on Mrs. McGee's shoulder. "I promise you. We _will_ get him back and make that bastard pay for what he did to your son."

Commander McGee's face showed little emotion but his eyes expressed his pain clearly. "Thank you, Special Agent Gibbs. Please, if we can do anything to help…" his words trailed off and he looked away, fighting to keep his emotions contained. He turned to his wife, "Come on, Elizabeth. We need to let Agent Gibbs do his job." As he started to lead his wife down the corridor he turned back to Gibbs. "You will let us know what you find?"

Gibbs nodded. "You have my word." Commander McGee nodded then shoulders slumped, led his softly weeping wife away. Gibbs' felt his jaw tighten in anger. He couldn't believe he had failed Tim so completely. First they would find McGee and then… they would make that bastard, Frank Morris, pay.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N Thanks again to all you great readers and especially those who have encouraged me through your reviews. I apologize for the infamous repetitive paragraph. I just forgot to delete it when I moved it elsewhere! That's what happens when you get old! It should be gone now. Thanks again!!!

**CHAPTER 12**

Agents DiNozzo and David arrived two hours later with Dr. Mallard, the NCIS medical examiner and Jimmy Palmer his assistant, in tow. None of them could believe that McGee had been kidnapped right out of the hospital. DiNozzo was livid. "What kinda hospital is this anyway?" He muttered as they entered McGee's vacant room. "Is it part of their cost cutting program to have patients kidnapped!?"

Ducky was carefully examining the dead guard's body. "I would put the time of death at approximately 4:15 this morning but I don't see any immediate cause of death. I'll need an autopsy to determine that."

Gibbs nodded grimly. They already had a good idea of when the guard was killed and by whom. The hospital had pulled their security tapes from that morning and while Gibbs had waited for his team, he'd spent the time studying the tape. The kidnappers had used a legitimate ambulance and a BOLO had already been sent out but Gibbs had little doubt that if and when they found it, it would have been long abandoned. There were two men and one woman. Gibbs would need to get their images to Abby to see if she could identify them. He shook his head sadly. If McGee had been there, it would have already been done. DiNozzo could do it but it would take twice as long.

While DiNozzo worked to get the digital images ready to send to Abby, Ziva dusted the rooms for prints. Unfortunately, with so many people moving in and out of this room, it could take quite some time to isolate any possible prints from the kidnappers. Their best bet would be either the bed or the closet door.

Gibbs had interviewed all the night staff he could find and although several remembered the trio taking McGee out to the ambulance, no one remembered anything that would really help them locate the missing agent. Of course, the hospital director had been mortified that this had happened in his facility and offered any assistance he could but Gibbs believed that the hospital was not harboring any clues that would help them. Their best bet was to identify the actual kidnappers.

Gibbs took a sip of his coffee deep in thought. Undoubtedly Morris had hired the three to kidnap McGee but why? If he'd simply wanted McGee dead, they could have easily accomplished that without going through the trouble of dragging him out of the hospital. The book. Gibbs frowned. That's why Morris kidnapped McGee in the first place, right? To write a book? But McGee said he hadn't finished it. He'd managed to call Abby and get rescued before the book was finished. Could it be as simple as that? Morris wanted the ending to his book!? Gibbs shook his head in disbelief. In his long career both as marine and NCSI agent, he'd seen people murdered for some pretty bizarre reasons but never because he hadn't finished writing a book! He tightened his jaw. He'd be damned if Timothy McGee would be the first.

"Boss," said DiNozzo approaching him, "I got the images to Abby and she's gonna clean 'em up and see if she can get a hit. Ziva got some pretty good prints off the closet door that we think were from one of the kidnappers so she's sending those to Abby too."

Gibbs nodded and as he was about to speak, Sheriff MacDonald came striding down the hallway, his face dark with fury. He stiffened as a stretcher bearing the body of the dead officer was maneuvered out of the hospital room and disappeared into the elevator. "Sheriff?" MacDonald turned his stricken face towards Gibbs.

"That's Jake Stewart," he said softly. "I've known him his whole life. He just got married last year and has a little baby boy. I don't know how I'm gonna explain this to his wife."

"I'm sorry," replied Gibbs as he too stared at the closing elevator doors. "Losing a man is never easy."

MacDonald was silent for a moment then turned back to Gibbs. "I want that bastard, Morris," he breathed, his voice harsh with anger. "I want him dead."

Gibbs couldn't agree more.

* * *

McGee fought his way back to consciousness. He was confused. It felt as if he were in a moving vehicle. Slowly, he opened his eyes just a bit so he could see where he was. He had this gut feeling that something wasn't right and even as groggy as he was he didn't dare ignore the feeling. He knew they would be moving him back up to Washington, but that wasn't supposed to be for another day and Gibbs was going to be in charge. As McGee tried to take in his current surroundings he realized he was in an ambulance and a man dressed as a paramedic sat nearby talking to somebody in the driver's compartment. It looked kosher but still McGee was suspicious. He closed his eyes and listened hoping to get a better feel of his situation.

"Where are we supposed to dump the ambulance?" McGee heard the paramedic say.

"Morris said to drop it outside of Charlottesville about two miles from Michie Tavern," replied a woman. "Somebody will meet us there with another vehicle for us and one to take this guy."

At the sound of Morris' name, McGee went cold. He fought to keep his breathing calm and slow; he didn't want to alert the nearby kidnapper that he was conscious. It was painfully obvious that he had been kidnapped from the hospital. He knew he was too weak to escape but if could leave some kind of message or clue he was confident Gibbs and the others would find him.

He gently pushed against the straps across his chest and was pleased to find they hadn't strapped in him too tightly but then a surge of terror rose within him as his claustrophobia kicked in. Desperately, he struggled to force it back down. He couldn't panic now! If the kidnappers knew he was conscious they'd undoubtedly just knock him out again. He concentrated on his breathing again trying to keep calm. It was one of the hardest things he'd ever done but he knew his life depended on it. In reality, he wanted to scream and leap out of that ambulance into the open. Images of being trapped in the box kept threatening to overwhelm him. He just couldn't let that happen.

It took all his powers of concentration but when at long last he felt he had achieved some measure of control he tentatively turned his attention back to his situation. He found he could move his arms a fair amount but exactly how that would help him, he wasn't sure but he needed to know his options.

His mind wandered back to Morris. He almost laughed realizing that Morris was probably ticked that McGee hadn't finished the book. Tim had reached the climax of the story but it was completely unresolved leaving a decidedly unsatisfying cliffhanger. No doubt Morris wanted McGee to finish the story. Unfortunately, McGee was just as certain Morris would kill him after that and it would be clean kill with no chance of a last minute rescue. McGee felt his anger rising. He was really fed up with this! Sure, he was scared to death but furious as well and cursed his inability to fight back. He hated being so damn helpless.

The ambulance sped along, winding its way through the mountains of the Blue Ridge. Tim had no idea how long they had been traveling and despite his best efforts, he dozed off more than once. He came fully awake as he felt the ambulance slow and carefully maneuver along what must have been some poorly maintained forest road. At last they came to a stop and few moments later the back doors of the ambulance swung open. Tim could feel the cold rush of air but didn't dare do more than peek through slitted eyes from time to time. He kept very still as they maneuvered the stretcher out of the ambulance and to the ground. He could feel several people standing around him.

"So, this is the guy?" said a deep, drawling voice. Obviously someone local.

"Yeah, that's him." replied the woman. "Hey, if that's your truck, I don't think this stretcher is gonna fit." Tim could hear them moving away obviously to examine the aforementioned vehicle. He took a quick look and could see five people walking towards a large, beat-up pickup. Tim studied it as well and could just make out the license plate. He felt his heart quicken as he slowly moved his left hand off the stretcher to the dirt below. He thanked his lucky stars that they hadn't raised the stretcher and he lay just a few inches above the ground. Quickly, he traced the letters and numbers of the plate praying they would be legible. He tried to do it as far beneath the stretcher as possible in hopes the kidnappers wouldn't notice.

"Well, just take him off the damn stretcher and stick him in the back," the drawling voice grumbled. "You're leavin' the ambulance here so who cares about the stretcher?" McGee swiftly brought his hand back up and lay still as the footsteps approached him once more. He felt the straps being released and he fought to remain silent against the pain as one man grabbed him and slung McGee over his shoulder in a fireman hold then roughly slid him into the covered bed of the pick-up. McGee fought back a groan as his head slammed down on the rusted metal of the bed, then sighed with relief as the truck's gate was firmly shut. He listened carefully and heard another vehicle start up and roar away. He hadn't noticed that one but with any luck, the NCIS team would find the abandoned ambulance and the license plate number of the truck he was in before they disappeared. Right now, it was his only hope.

He opened his eyes and choked back a cry as he found himself enclosed within the confines of the covered bed. He began shaking violently as the memories washed over him: the walls closing in…the pressure…the relentless sound of the dirt being piled higher and higher burying him deeper and deeper until everything went black.


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

Deep in frustration, the NCIS team sat around the conference table at the local sheriff's department. So far, Abby had no hits on either the images of the kidnappers or their fingerprints. MacDonald didn't recognize them but that didn't mean much.

"Boss," growled Tony anxiously as he began pacing the room. "We gotta do _something_! Who knows what that sonofabitch is doin' to McGee!"

Gibbs rubbed his eyes wearily. "I _know _Tony. I'm not happier about this than you are!" He was about to continue when the door burst open and MacDonald appeared, a big grin on his face.

"We found the ambulance!" Quickly the team scrambled to gather their gear and raced out to the waiting SUV.

MacDonald slid in behind the steering wheel and handed a map print out to Gibbs in the seat beside him. "The helicopter found it. It's on an old forest road west of Charlottesville. Not much out there but woods and the occasional cabin. The state police are there blocking off the road but are leaving the scene untouched for you all."

An hour later, they rolled to stop a ten yards away from the abandoned ambulance. Quickly they descended from the vehicle and began a careful examination of the scene, photographing tire marks and foot prints and dusting for prints on the ambulance and stretcher which remained where the kidnappers had left it. MacDonald hunkered down studying the area around the stretcher.

"Looks like they just picked him up and put him in whatever vehicle they were usin' next. Size of them tires, I'd say a pickup or SUV. Same with that other set of tires over there." DiNozzo joined him and peered under the stretcher looking for anything that might give them an indication of where Tim had gone. He frowned. It appeared the dirt under the stretcher was disturbed.

"Hey sheriff, give me a hand moving this stretcher. I think there's something underneath." Carefully, the two men lifted the stretcher and moved it the side. As DiNozzo examined the disturbed soil, his face split into a wide grin. "That's my probie!" he said softly as he quickly photographed what he'd found: VA 302WTL

"Boss!" DiNozzo cried excitedly looking for Gibbs. "We got something!" Gibbs and Ziva hurried over and studied the evidence.

"A license plate number!" whispered Ziva, her eyes glowing. "McGee must have written it for us to find!" Gibbs smiled for the first time since this ordeal had begun. McGee wasn't just waiting for them to find him, he actively was trying to help and this could be the clue that made all the difference.

As MacDonald pocketed his cell phone, he turned to Gibbs. "I just got my boys workin' on tracking down the owner of that vehicle. Should hear back soon."

"Thanks, Sheriff." For the next twenty minutes, the team combed the area but found nothing new. When they heard MacDonald's cell phone ring they all turned to him expectantly as he spoke to his office.

"All right," the sheriff said as he looked over the notes he'd just written. "The vehicle in question is a black, 1999 Ford F250 pick up and belongs to a fella by the name of Billy Lee Harper of Staunton. Got quite a record, drugs, grand theft auto, burglary, assault, you name it, he's probably done it. He's been in and outa prison so many times, he probably has a permanent cell with his name on it. Anyway, we got a BOLO alert issued and state police are sending some guys to watch his house."

As he faced the three NCSI agents, his jaw tightened. "Special Agent Gibbs, a lot of folks around these parts knew Jake Stewart and respected him. None of us takes the death of an officer easy here and your boy is one of us for all practical purposes. We saw what that bastard did to him last time and that ain't something you quickly forget. We'll find him."

If Gibbs was surprised by this outpouring of support he didn't show it. Truth be told, different law enforcement agencies often found themselves at odds with one another and cooperation was not always entered into willingly. But MacDonald firmly believed that officers of any branch should willing to come to each other's aid and although he'd spoken to McGee only briefly in the hospital, the young man reminded him uncomfortably of his own son. He'd met the agent's family and knew them to be good people. That meant a lot to MacDonald. And then there was Frank Morris. MacDonald had always admired Frank. The man had worked tirelessly to help his community and everyone loved him. Turned out it was all a lie; they'd found three more bodies buried out on Frank's property. They had had a viper in their midst all this time and MacDonald couldn't rest until they brought Agent McGee home and put an end to Frank Morris for good.

* * *

McGee spent most of the uncomfortable trip in the back of the pick-up barely conscious which was a blessing. His body hurt everywhere and his broken leg practically exploded in pain every time they hit another big pothole. The pain gave him something besides his fears to concentrate on. The driver didn't seem to care what he ran over. McGee had no idea how long they drove but it was dark when they arrived. The truck bounced to a halt and Tim distantly heard the man get out of the truck. The next thing he knew he was being dragged out of the back of the truck and again thrown over the man's shoulder. Tim moaned, not caring if they knew he was awake. The man lugged him inside a cabin and carelessly dropped him onto an old, rickety bed, then turned and left. Tim could hear him talking to another man in the other room. It was, he realized, a feeling of doom sweeping over him, Frank Morris.

"OK Frank, I delivered yer package, now where's my money?"

"Hold on, Billy." McGee heard some rustling. "There. $2000. Not bad pay for a delivery boy, eh?" The two men laughed and McGee heard the door slam and a few moments later the roar of the truck engine as Billy took off. McGee stiffened as Morris' heavy footsteps approached him carrying an old fashioned kerosene lantern.

"Hello, Mr. Gemcity," smiled Morris in delight as if greeting an old friend. "It's been awhile!"

"What the hell do you want, Morris?" snapped Tim, pain making him irritable.

"Why Thom," exclaimed Morris shaking his head in disappointment, "I would think that would be obvious! You wrote me such a magnificent story but as you recall you neglected to finish it. I had hoped it would be complete enough but how wrong I was! It is entirely unsatisfactory and I want you to finish what you started."

Tim's wheezing laugh quickly turning into a deep, bone-rattling cough. "You've got to be kidding, Frank! I'll burn in hell before I finish that story for you!"

Morris blinked as if perplexed by an unexpected response. "I'm not kidding at all, Thom. I want my story finished." His beady eyes narrowed as he lowered his face close to McGee's. McGee recoiled at the man's fetid breath. Frank's voice was now low and quiet. "I can make last time seem like a trip to the fun park compared to what I'll do this time. And if you still refuse to finish the story, well, I'm certain I remember reading someplace that you have a charming little sister going to school near Washington. I'm sure she'd enjoy coming to Virginia to visit me."

Tim's face went absolutely white and with strength he would never have imagined he still possessed, flung himself at Morris, burying his hands deep in folds of the man's fleshy neck. For the first time in his life, he desperately wished he knew even a fraction of the killing techniques the Mossad supposedly taught Ziva. Morris' eyes bulged in surprise as Tim found the man's trachea and began pressing as hard as he could. Morris fell backwards taking Tim with him, but McGee was like a pit bull, refusing to let go. The thought of this monster even knowing his sister existed was more than McGee could tolerate. For awhile, he thought he would win but Morris was a large, powerful man and McGee was recovering from a serious illness and in the end, he couldn't sustain his attack. With a snarl, Morris hurled McGee across the room like a ragdoll and staggering to his feet, the giant kicked McGee savagely in the ribs snapping them like twigs. McGee screamed in pain. He tried to crawl away but cried out again as Morris grabbed him, hauled him to his feet and backhanded McGee hard across the face. McGee felt his nose snap and warm, salty blood poured down his face. Morris held McGee up by the front of his inadequate hospital gown as he lowered his own face towards McGee's. McGee could see the vivid red marks his own hands had made around the man's massive neck and he felt a modicum of satisfaction.

"You will regret that Thom E Gemcity," hissed Morris, his face now a mask of fury, "More than anything in your entire life and unless you do exactly as I say, so will that darlin' little sister of yours."

Panting, McGee never flinched as his own hate-filled gaze met those of Morris'. "Don't you _dare_ touch my sister." He clenched his teeth trying to keep them from chattering as he fought against the shock his body had experienced. "I'll finish your damn story." _And then, you'll kill me._


	14. Chapter 14

**CHAPTER 14**

A BOLO had been issued for Billy Lee Harper and it wasn't more than two hours later that MacDonald got the call that Harper had been picked up in Staunton. Gibbs and his team headed out immediately.

The Staunton police station was small and hardly the ideal place for an interrogation, but Gibbs was determined to find out the truth of what had happened to McGee. The local police chief, Carl Transom, was a small, wiry man with little sense of humor. He took to Gibbs immediately.

"We got ol' Billy Lee locked up in the cells in the back," the chief drawled addressing Gibbs. "When we got your BOLO alert we knew where he'd be, so we simply went out and picked him up at his girlfriend's, one Lynette Masters." He gave a snort. "She's a real piece of work. Anyway, we found $2000 in an envelope in his truck. He claims somebody paid him back money they owed him, but that's hardly likely. Harper is always broke 'cept when he's robbed somebody or been doin' some drug dealin'. I suspect it's payment for his part in kidnappin' your agent. We're checking it for prints."

"Thanks, Chief," said Gibbs quietly. "Now, is there someplace I can have a few words with Mr. Harper?"

Transom led Gibbs to a small windowless room with a table and a couple of chairs. "'Fraid this the best I can do. Sorry we don't have a separate observation room but the room is wired so we can listen in on all interrogations and record 'em."

Gibbs simply nodded his approval. He waited in the hallway with Ziva and Tony while Transom went to retrieve Harper.

"We must find out from this Billy Ray Harper where he has taken McGee," said Ziva staring hard down the hallway. "I feel we do not have much time."

"I agree," replied Gibbs following her gaze. Tony fidgeted impatiently but as Transom started down the hall with Harper in restraints, Tony's attention was riveted on their suspect. They watched silently as Transom led Harper into the interrogation room and seated him in one of the chairs. Gibbs followed them in and settled into the opposite chair. Tony and Ziva stood in the corners of the room and waited silently as Transom started for the door closing firmly behind him.

Billy Lee Harper was tall and lanky with long, greasy hair and a scraggly beard. Elaborate tattoos adorned his forearms and neck. He stared at Gibbs with obvious disdain. "You the navy cop?" he sneered. "Well, I can tell you right now, I ain't got nuthin' to say to you. I want a lawyer."

Gibbs leaned in close to Harper so they were practically nose to nose, his icy blue eyes stared intently into Harper's wary brown ones. Harper leaned back but maintained eye contact, wanting to prove he wasn't intimidated by some pseudo-cop. Gibbs' gaze never wavered and Harper soon found himself wanting to look away, his mouth dry.

"I want to know what you did with my agent, Timothy McGee."

_Agent!? _Harper's eyes went wide_. Shit_. _Morris told me that guy was some goddamn writer! He never said nothin' about him being a federal agent! _He licked his lips and finally broke his gaze to look at the two other NCIS agents standing stolidly behind Gibbs. They looked like they'd gun him down without a second thought. _Damn, damn, damn!! _Billy Lee thought angrily_, Frank told me there was no risk; that they'd never figure out what happened to that damn writer. Now I got the feds onto me! The hell with _that_!_

"Listen, I didn't know that guy was a fed!" blurted Harper turning back to Gibbs. "Frank told me he was just some writer and all I had to do was meet some people bringing the guy in an ambulance and deliver him to Frank. That's _all_!" Billy Lee was worried. He licked his lips again. "I'll tell you where I took him, but you gotta cut me some kinda deal. I was just doin' a friend a favor!"

Silently, Gibbs tilted his head and studied Harper, his eyes never blinking. Harper looked away again; he could feel sweat forming on his brow. Something about this navy cop really gave him the creeps. He could feel his resolve crumbling. It was one thing when he knowingly committed a crime but he'd be damned if he'd take the rap for that bastard, Morris. "I took him to the old Mountain Top Getaway motel," he finally mumbled, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

Gibbs nodded to Tony who hurried from the room, returning a few moments later with the police chief.

Gibbs looked towards Transom . "You know this place?"

Transom frowned thoughtfully. "That's west of Charlottesville. It's made up of a bunch of individual cabins, run by an old drunk, Bob Gilmore. I don't think people have actually stayed there in years. It's up in the mountains and definitely off the beaten path. Be a perfect place to hide out." He paused now looking at Harper. "I wonder if that means Morris killed Bob."

Harper swallowed nervously. "Listen, I don't know nuthin' about any Bob guy. I only saw Frank." He now shook his head. "I dunno what y'all are so worried about. Frank's a nice guy. He ain't really gonna hurt your guy."

"He buried McGee alive and left him to die," snarled Tony stepping forward, eyes blazing. "That doesn't sound like such a nice guy, now does it!?"

Harper blinked in confusion. Harper had had more than his fair share of run-ins with the law and knew a lot about the local crime scene but he'd never heard anything about Frank Morris being dangerous or doing more than petty criminal stuff. Murder? Harper just couldn't imagine it.

"If Agent McGee dies," said Gibbs in his soft, deadly voice, "You will be charged as an accessory to murder. If he lives, then kidnapping. You're screwed either way, Mr. Harper." Gibbs turned and left, his team hurrying after him.

Harper stared after them for a few minutes, then turned as the officer pulled on his arm to return him to his cell. _Shit_.

****************

Gibbs studied the map where Transom had marked the location of the motel. They had contacted the state police and Sheriff MacDonald who were on their way as well. Gibbs had no idea if the cabin was where it would all end or if Morris had other plans.

"I can't believe that creep Harper caved so easily," said DiNozzo climbing into the front seat of the car.

"Those types are often just bullies," stated Ziva flatly. "When confronted by someone more powerful, they quickly give up."

"Yeah, well I think he was pissed that Morris had lied to him. Did you see his face? He had no idea McGee was a federal agent. He thought he was just some dumb writer. Harper was just trying to save his own ass."

Gibbs' phone rang. He quickly answered. "Gibbs".

"Hello, Jethro," replied Ducky, "Thought I would update you on our dead guard. He was poisoned. Curare. Effect is immediate. I'm sorry to say he never had a chance."

Gibbs sighed. "Thanks, Ducky."

"Any word on Timothy's whereabouts?" Gibbs could hear the anxiety in Ducky's voice. He almost smiled as he heard Abby's worried voice in the background begging for details.

"We think we may have tracked him down," replied Gibbs pulling out onto the highway. "We're on our way now. I'll keep you posted. And tell Abby to calm down!" He quickly snapped the phone shut and accelerated. Time was of the essence.


	15. Chapter 15

**CHAPTER 15**

It took them close to two hours to finally locate the old motel. Tony shivered, feeling a sense of déjà vu. Hadn't they been in almost this exact same situation just a few weeks ago? MacDonald stood by their side and even though this was out of his jurisdiction Gibbs had agreed to having him come along. Several police vehicles, lights flashing, were already on the scene with a number of state troopers spread out across the area.

One of the state police approached them. It was Sergeant Klein. "We meet again, Agent Gibbs," he said wearily. "This Frank Morris really has it in for your agent, I gotta say." He was a silent for a moment then sighed. "Sorry to say, your man isn't here. We've searched all the cabins. Found fresh blood in one, number 5 at the end, and a body of an old man in number one. We're assuming he's the owner, Bob Gilmore. He's been dead for days, looks like, but the ME is on the way.

Gibbs said nothing for a moment, just studied the scene before him then closed his eyes for a moment before turning to Tony and Ziva. Both looked devastated. "Go check out the cabins. See if you can find any clues to Morris' intentions or where he might have taken McGee." Silently, the two agents shouldered their gear and headed to the row of cabins.

"I'll take number 5," said Tony tightly. Ziva just nodded and turned towards number one. Tony felt sick, angry, and defeated. How could they be so close and yet still miss him? _If I ever find you, McGoo_, he thought as he opened the door to the cabin, _I'm keeping you chained to your desk! _

The cabin was made up of two rooms and a bath. It smelled of rot, mildew and disuse. The filthy windows let in almost no light and Tony pulled out his flashlight. He sniffed. He noticed a slight odor of kerosene. Perhaps from a lantern? He shone his light around the front room. There were the rotting remains of a sofa, an old grimy table with a broken lamp and a fireplace. He didn't see anything obvious there and moved into the bedroom. The only furniture was an old bed with ratty mattress covered with dust, mildew and mouse droppings. Tony looked more carefully and sighed. And blood. Not a lot, but enough to worry Tony. Automatically, he began taking samples, sealing them in evidence bags. He shivered as he pictured Tim imprisoned here, in pain and alone.

Next, he went outside and began to study the ground around the cabin. Most of the ground was covered by fallen leaves but he noticed a boot print in the mud about ten feet behind the cabin. He stood and looked towards the nearby woods and could just make out evidence of a path. Slowly, he began to follow it deeper into the wooded hills. He noticed a bit of moisture on his hand and saw a smear of blood. Morris must have come this way! He began to hurry feeling a sense of impending doom. He grabbed his phone and cursed when he realized he had no signal. Should he go back and get the others? He looked back towards the cabins. No one was in sight. _Damn. OK, I'll go just a little farther and see if I can see where Morris took McGee. Then I'll go get the others. _

Silently, Tony followed the trail, finding traces of blood as he went, moving deeper into the hills. As he climbed another rise he found himself facing a wall of rock about ten feet ahead. He studied it carefully and realized there appeared to be the opening of a cave. Could that be where they went? He made his way down the slope towards the opening. It was steep and the loose stones made footing precarious. Tony thought he was clear until he stepped on a flat rock that split under his weight sending him tumbling down the remainder of the hill. With a cry of pain, he hit his head hard on a rock and everything went black.

He was only out for a few minutes but it was long enough. Frank Morris, thinking he'd heard something had come out of the cave just in time to see Tony take his fall. Hurrying over, the large man quickly bound Tony's hands and began hauling him into the cave. Tony came to as Morris was dumping him on the floor, deep within the cave. Tony moaned and blinked trying to make sense of the scene before him.

Tony had never seen Morris before and was shocked by the massive bear of a man looming above him in the flickering light of the lantern he held in his hand. It was like something out of Dante's Inferno! Tony shook his head and immediately regretted it as it sent a shooting pain through his skull.

"Who are you?" rumbled the giant.

"NCIS Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo," grunted Tony shifting his position, trying to get more comfortable on the cold stone floor. "And if you're Frank Morris, you're under arrest."

There was a moment of surprised silence then Morris began laughing. It was such an amused sound that Tony found himself grinning in spite of himself. "I'm _your_ prisoner?" guffawed the man staring at Tony with a huge grin plastered on his face. "I had no idea federal agents had such a sense of humor!" He laughed harder then stopped, his face now hard and menacing. "So, _Special Agent_ Anthony DiNozzo, what brings you here? As far as I know, there aren't any Navy or Marine bases up in these mountains. Isn't that what NCIS deals with? Navy and Marine crime?"

Tony grimaced at the pain in his head and tightly bound hands. "Yeah, well you kidnapped one of our agents and we at the NCIS don't take kindly to that!"

Now Frank looked puzzled. "What're you talking about?" he demanded. "I've never even met an NCIS agent before you dropped in."

"Ha!" snorted Tony, "Shows how little you know!" He shook his head in mock disappointment. "Just who do you think Thom E. Gemcity is? It's a nom de plume for one NCIS Special Agent Timothy McGee. Some Number One Fan you are! The minute you snatched him for your sick little writing program, you had the feds on your tail. Your good buddy, ol' Billy Lee sang like a canary once he found out. He sure wasn't gonna take the rap for you."

Frank frowned, his eyes dark . Thom E. Gemcity was really _Timothy McGee_? An NCIS agent!? He suddenly felt deeply betrayed as if Gemcity had purposefully lied to Frank about who he was.

"Where is McGee?" Morris focused again on his new prisoner. Tony was staring at him, his eyes cold.

Morris was feeling more and more angry and hearing Gemcity's real name inflamed his fury. He abruptly grabbed Tony by the arm and hauled him roughly to his feet. Tony cried out in pain at the unexpected manhandling but allowed himself to be dragged down a narrow passageway through the rock to another cavern. This one had several lanterns burning and Tony could see a form huddled on the ground in the far corner.

"McGee!" The figure raised its head and Tony felt his throat constrict as he saw the bruised and battered face of his partner. McGee stared dully back at him.

"Hullo, Tony," he rasped weakly then lapsed into a bout of deep, wet coughing before slumping against the cavern wall exhausted.

Morris dumped Tony near McGee glaring at the younger man. He stepped closer to McGee and struck him hard across the face. "You lied to me!" he spat striking him again. "You _lied_!"

"Hey! Stop that!" cried DiNozzo struggling against his bonds. "Leave him alone you bastard!"

McGee lay unmoving on the floor for a few moments before turning his head and staring up at his attacker. His face was battered and raw. "I never lied to you."

"You did!" snarled Morris pulling McGee up by his hair. "You told me you were Thom Gemcity, a writer! You never said you were Tim McGee, a goddamn _NCIS agent_!" He shook McGee hard with every word. McGee moaned softly. Tony was furious. He'd never felt so helpless in his life as he did right now watching this son of a bitch beat up McGee. Morris threw McGee to the ground in disgust and kicked the agent's broken leg. McGee cried out then went limp.

DiNozzo was breathing hard, glaring hard at his captor. Morris now turned his attention to him and shook his head. "I assume there are more of you out there somewhere?"

Tony grinned but said nothing. He sure hoped to God there were more out there. He had tried to leave an obvious trail for Gibbs to follow. _Shoulda brought reinforcements_, he thought ruefully.

Morris growled in irritation then turned back to where Tim lay unconscious. He knelt down and picked up a sheaf of papers and studied them carefully, nodding in apparent satisfaction. "Thom was supposed to finish my book," he said conversationally. "He is an excellent writer, I've gotta give him that. It's not completely finished but close enough now." He stared down at McGee and shook his head. He looked genuinely sorry. "I guess I should just kill him now." He glanced at Tony. "You too. Coupla more murders aren't gonna make much difference in my case." He reached behind his back and pulled a gun out of the waistband of his pants. Tony instantly recognized it as his own service revolver and went cold. Morris must have taken it while he was out.

Morris quickly checked it and began to point it towards Tony. Suddenly, out of nowhere, McGee hurled himself at Morris' knees throwing the man off balance and causing him to lose hold of the gun. "McGee!" cried Tony struggling to his feet. The gun had landed near his feet and quickly Tony kicked the gun to McGee who snatched it up and pointed it at the now incensed Morris. McGee pulled the trigger, once, twice, three times and still Morris kept coming, his face contorted in pain and fury. In a moment, he was upon Tim, knocking the gun away, and wrapping his massive hands around Tim's neck. McGee reached up to try and push Morris away, but his efforts were fruitless. He fought desperately for air but there was nothing. His vision was going red and gradually faded to black.

Tony watched in horror as Morris reached Tim and began viciously strangling the weakened agent. Tim had shot him three times and that hadn't even fazed the giant! Tony scrambled over where the gun lay behind a pile of rocks and awkwardly picked it up. He knew shooting it with his hands tied behind his back would be hard but he had to try. He knew his aim would be off so while Morris was distracted, Tony crept as close as he dared then fired again and again. Morris went rigid then turned slowly to peer behind him in agonized confusion before slumping to the ground, dead at last, blood pooling around the body.

Using his foot, Tony struggled to roll Morris off McGee. "Probie!" he cried desperately, trying to get some response from his partner. "McGee! Can you hear me?"

For several long seconds, he was sure McGee was dead and was trying to figure out how to do CPR with his hands tied behind his back when McGee gave a weak cough and took a shallow wavering breath. Tony winced at the rattling sound in McGee's chest. "Okay, Probie," he said leaning over McGee. "Gibbs and Ziva are out there looking for us. I'm gonna go get 'em and get you outa here. OK? Morris is dead, so you don't worry about him!" He paused unhappily then added softly. "Don't die on me, Tim."

With a last look at Morris, Tony struggled back to his feet and grabbed one of the lanterns. As he started out of the cave, he suddenly realized he had no idea how to get out. He'd been unconscious when Frank had brought him in. Awkwardly, he held the lantern to the side and carefully followed the footprints in the dust on the floor of the cave. He took a few false turns but knew, given his massive size, Morris would have chosen the largest passages and soon his could see the light at the end of the tunnel. Blinking against the bright sunshine, he stumbled out of the cave. He cursed the rope binding his hands and with great difficulty, started working his way back up the steep slope hurrying to find Gibbs and the others.


	16. Chapter 16

**CHAPTER 16**

Gibbs was furious. Where the hell was DiNozzo!? Ziva told him that Tony had gone to investigate cabin five but that was almost an hour ago and now he was nowhere to be found. MacDonald came hurrying up. "Looks like he may have gone into the woods," he reported. "There's a trail leading down there and it looks like there's some blood. It's possible Morris took McGee that way and DiNozzo followed."

Gibbs pressed his lips tightly together fighting to keep his anger contained. Tony knew better than to go off by himself. Gibb's gut was telling him another agent was in trouble.

"Boss!" Gibbs quickly turned to see Tony stumbling out of the woods, his hands bound behind him. Gibbs, Ziva, and MacDonald hurried over to meet him. "Boss!" panted Tony as Ziva slipped behind him and cut his bonds. Tony rubbed his throbbing wrists and winced as the feeling began to return. "I found them! They're in a cave about a quarter of a mile from here."

Gibbs studied him. "And?"

Tony looked momentarily discomfited. "Morris is dead. He has Tim in a cave. I uh, fell, and Morris got me and took me to the cave where he had McGee." He paused, remembering the battered figure huddled in the corner of that cave. "McGee's alive but we gotta go get him now. He's in pretty bad shape."

Gibbs turned to MacDonald. "Go get the paramedics and meet us at the cave." He looked towards the woods. "The path looks pretty clear but if it's not, we'll leave markers." He turned back to DiNozzo. "You absolutely sure Morris is dead?"

Tony hesitated then replied, "Yeah, Boss. I'm sure."

MacDonald exchanged looks with Gibbs then ran back towards the cabins as Gibbs and his remaining team members hurried to the cave. Tony picked up the lantern he'd left burning near the cave entrance and led the way through the maze of passages. He was thankful he'd thought to mark the way more clearly. Finally they reached the inner cavern. They stood for a few moments in the entry studying the scene before them.

Gibbs could make out Morris' massive body lying still in one corner and next to him lay McGee pale and unmoving. Quickly, Gibbs hurried over to his injured agent, wincing at the man's bruised and swollen face and neck, the imprint of Morris' hands still vivid in McGee's throat. Almost reluctantly, Gibbs reached down and felt for a pulse. It was thin and thready, but there. He was still alive. Gibbs closed his eyes and dropped his head suddenly feeling so old and exhausted.

Ziva knelt down beside McGee and looked questioningly at Gibbs. She sighed in relief at his brief nod. She noticed the remnants of McGee's filthy hospital gown barely covered him so picked up the blanket she found lying nearby and gently spread it over him. She leaned over and quietly whispered something in McGee's ear and softly brushed his cheek with her lips.

Gibbs turned his attention to Tony who now stood, shoulders slumped, gazing down at McGee. "Tony?"

"He saved my life, Boss," replied Tony softly as if the realization had just hit him. "Morris was about to shoot me and McGee tackled him making him lose the gun. I managed to kick the gun over to McGee and he shot the guy, three times." He paused shaking his head in bemusement. "Three times and the guy just kept comin'! That's when he tried to strangle McGee. He was so distracted I was able to get the gun and finish him off." He now stared at Morris. "_Three times_!" he whispered.

Gibbs stood next to his agent and clapped him on the shoulder. Then he smacked Tony hard on the back of the head.

"Ow!" yelped Tony looking at his boss in surprise. "What's that for?"

"You ever go off like that again on your own, DiNozzo, I'll have your badge!"

* * *

Once McGee was out of the cave and on his way to the hospital, Gibbs pulled out his phone and called NCIS headquarters. "Ducky?"

"Ah, Jethro! At long last! What news? Good I hope?"

Gibbs smiled for the first time. "Yeah, Ducky. DiNozzo found him. He's alive. I'm gonna have the docs at the local hospital check him over and then I'm flying him to Bethesda. I'm not risking him being out here on his own again. He looked bad but I don't know how bad he really is. I'll let you know as soon as I know. I wanted you to go tell Abby."

"I'm right here, Gibbs!" cried Abby having snatched the phone away from Ducky. "Just tell me he's gonna be OK! I can't bear to lose another of you guys! You hear me, Gibbs!"

Gibbs smiled again and shook his head. "I hear ya, Abs, and I'll be sure and tell McGee. I'll call you when I know more."

Gibbs arrived at the hospital leaving Tony and Ziva to process the crime scene. Neither was happy about being left behind but understood the importance of processing the scene immediately. MacDonald offered to stay with them and give them a ride to the hospital once they were done.

"Agent Gibbs?" Gibbs looked up to see a gray haired man in scrubs gazing down at him. Gibbs stood.

"Yeah?"

"I'm Dr. Pritchard. I've come to give you an update on your agent. I understand you want to careflight him to the Bethesda Naval Hospital?"

"That's right."

Dr. Pritchard nodded. "Well, as for your agent's condition. He has numerous broken ribs and a bruised lung. That's his biggest problem right now. His left lung has been filling with fluid and we're draining it. I see signs that he's been recently ill with pneumonia?" Gibbs nodded. "I haven't gotten his previous records so you may have to fill me in. That just makes his lung problems more precarious. Anyway, he has a broken nose and concussion and we had to reset his broken leg. I'm putting his condition at critical but I'll approve his transfer to Bethesda as soon as we feel he's stable. Probably by tomorrow. Is that acceptable?"

Gibbs sighed. "As long as one of my other agents or myself can be with him at all times."

"That shouldn't be a problem." Pritchard looked at Gibbs for a moment. "I can tell this young man has been through a very difficult time but he's definitely tougher than he looks. I think he'll pull through. I'll let you know as soon as he's moved to a room."

"Thanks, Doc." Gibbs watched as the doctor disappeared through the double doors. He sighed wearily as he gulped his coffee. Maybe he was getting to old for this job. He thought about his agents. Losing Caitlyn Todd had been extremely difficult. She'd died because of him. He thought back to the times he'd thought he'd lost Tony or Ziva. A little of him died each time he went through this. Now Tim. He shook his head as he leaned back in the hard hospital seat. Maybe he should have left McGee in Cybercrimes. The kid was not a natural field agent but he was dogged and didn't give up. He remembered Tony once telling him that McGee didn't think he was cut out to be a field agent. It was right after Tim had shot that Metro cop. Gibbs smiled faintly. What a mess that had been and it had very nearly destroyed Tim. It was true that Tony had started out as a Baltimore cop and Ziva a Mossad agent so perhaps they were more psychologically suited to the field but Gibbs knew McGee was on his way to being a damn good agent. He opened his eyes and frowned - assuming this episode didn't destroy McGee's desire to stay in NCIS.

McGee had talked about leaving the agency after his first rescue. This most recent disaster certainly wouldn't help but the irony was this whole thing had nothing to do with McGee being an NCIS agent; in fact being an NCIS agent is what had saved him in the end. Gibbs knew McGee would be dead by now if he had only been Thom E. Gemcity, writer. Gibbs looked up as he heard the soft ding of the elevator and watched as Ziva and DiNozzo came hurrying over.

"How is he, Boss?" asked Tony looking towards the double doors.

"Broken ribs, bruised lung and neck, broken nose and concussion," replied Gibbs. "Doc says his condition is critical but thinks he'll be stable enough to transfer tomorrow."

Ziva and Tony exchanged glances. "We're staying with him, Gibbs," said Ziva firmly. Her defiant look dared him to disagree.

Gibbs smiled faintly. "I wouldn't have it any other way."


	17. Chapter 17

A/N This is the final chapter and I want to thank all of you for sticking with it to the end! Thank you so much for all your support and kind reviews. I might even try writing another one. I hope you enjoy the ending and thank you all again!

**EPILOGUE**

Tim McGee stood in front of his mirror nervously checking his appearance for perhaps the tenth time. He was feeling especially anxious this morning – today he was returning to work since he was kidnapped by Frank Morris almost six months ago. It had been a long, painful convalescence for the NCIS agent with a few set-backs along the way. Tim's mother had come and stayed with him while he recovered, taking him to his doctor's appointments, PT, etc. until he was up to caring for himself. She had finally left a couple of weeks ago and although he missed her, it was a relief to be on his own again.

For awhile, Tim wasn't even sure he even wanted to return to NCIS but with the passage of time and a lot of counseling, he had been able to look back on the whole nightmare a little more objectively and as Gibbs had pointed out, it had all happened because he had been a writer, not a Navy cop. He had to admit that he loved working at NCIS. He enjoyed nothing more than using his brain to solve complex problems and NCIS provided him with more than enough opportunities. He enjoyed writing, but it could never be as mentally stimulating or as gratifying as cracking some encrypted data leading to the downfall of a terrorist cell.

He sighed as he turned away from his mirror and picked up his cane. His leg, having been so badly injured, still gave him problems and there was some question as to whether or not he'd ever be able to return to the field but regardless, Gibbs had insisted McGee remain on his team. Physical therapy was helping so McGee could only hope his leg would heal well enough to eventually allow him to resume all his duties. Until then, his vast computer and analytical skills were much in demand. He was just thankful they weren't sending him back to the basement with "the rest of the geeks" as Tony would put it. Cybercrimes were all well and good but his stint back there when Vance had broken up Gibbs' team had been more than enough. But, Tim was realistic and knew if that was his only option, he'd return to the cybercrimes division with little complaint.

He thought about his team: Tony, Ziva, Abby, Ducky and of course, Gibbs. They had all come to visit him regularly while he was in the hospital. He smiled slightly as he remembered his reunion with Abby. She had stood there for a few moments in the doorway of his hospital room just staring at him, her face streaked with tears. She wore little make up and looked so young and vulnerable in her black pigtails and schoolgirl dress.

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again, Timmy," she'd said softly before rushing in and throwing herself in his arms. Tim winced remembering how painful it had been but he'd managed to keep from crying out and sighed with great relief when Gibbs had quickly peeled Abby off him. Still, he liked to remember the warmth of her embrace.

Ziva often came and sat with McGee when he'd first returned and was barely aware of his surroundings and told him stories of growing up in Israel. He didn't remember much about the stories but he recalled how the sound of her voice made him feel safe. He had always greatly admired Ziva and although they had always gotten along and worked well together, he was a little surprised that she would take as much time as she had to stay with him. Somehow he felt like he wasn't really worthy of her attention.

Then he thought of DiNozzo. Tony had almost died at the hands of that bastard, Morris. Tim had reacted instinctively when he saw the gun pointed at DiNozzo's head. The whole episode was very fuzzy in his mind but Tony had made a point to describe it in great detail time and time again embellishing it a little with each telling until it began to sound like something out of a Bruce Willis _Die Hard_ film. Tim had to chuckle. Tony had been so grateful he'd been uncharacteristically nice to Tim ever since. Truth be told, it was actually a little unnerving and deep down, Tim knew that he wouldn't really feel like he'd returned until Tony started insulting him again.

Ducky also came to visit him and could spend hours regaling Tim with stories of his past, some of which were quite fascinating. Tim was fully aware that Ducky had also been watching Tim closely and evaluating his recovery from his harrowing experience. Tim made a face. He'd had to spend numerous hours in psychological counseling as a result but if that was a prerequisite to returning to work, then so be it. It might have even helped.

Gibbs had come by almost daily. He never stayed long but it was if he wanted Tim to know he hadn't been forgotten and that he was still wanted. That meant a lot to Tim. McGee would be the first to admit that although he was very confident in his technical abilities he was equally insecure when it came to personal relationships. As a kid, he'd been bullied for being such a geek. He hadn't been athletic or good looking and brains didn't seem to count for much in the popularity polls so he tended to keep his shields up to prevent being hurt further. At college he had been too immersed in his studies to make many friends or date and if he had to admit it, the people on his NCIS team were the best friends he'd ever had, including DiNozzo. The thought he might be lose them was one of the driving factors that convinced him to return to NCIS. He didn't want to be so alone again.

McGee jumped at the sound of a loud rapping at his front door. "Hey Probie! Open up!" came Tony's voice, "C'mon, McGee, we ain't got all day! Your ride's here and as John Wayne said in _The Cowboys_, 'we're burnin' daylight'!" Turning to head to his front door, McGee laughed softly at Tony's terrible John Wayne imitation. Suddenly, he knew everything was going to be all right. He was back.

THE END

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